


SoulBound

by Ellourrah



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-10-17
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 157,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellourrah/pseuds/Ellourrah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark obsession tears the ancient worlds apart, sacrificing thousands of lives in the ironic name of love. Now, Chiba Mamoru finds himself helplessly infatuated with the blond Senshi that haunts his every waking moment. He must discover the true identity of the city's most elusive heroine, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to have her. Even if it means repeating the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

A somber grey sky arched in pain toward the heavens across the slouching stone barriers, the scream of the eastern wind it’s only cry of despair. The palace walls were thick and hard, permeated with the damp coolness of a long forsaken dungeon. Along the faded stone face, years of history etched into each jagged scar. The grounds seemed more like a decaying tomb or a shroud of never ending agony, than the beautiful tapestry of magic it had once been. The skies shed no light, showered no mercy across the faded, rotting landscape sprawling toward the distance. The shivering, cool wind brought the stench of death, of hell, of a thousand broken, lost souls. It was a wind of ill fortune, of curses and pestilence –of death.

For the Heavenly Kings, tonight was a grim night indeed. It was at the denouncement of their Master that each had begun the sinister fall toward the darkness. Even now, the languid rolling of their earthly powers were devolving toward the most vile, demonic hands of the underworld. The King of Hell himself had mocked the growing despair, the Immortal Gods declared their spiteful condemnation. It would all end soon, in the haze of fire and smoke, beneath the crushing hand of a Demoness that once stood at their side. 

Tonight, all things would shatter and fall into ruin. At dawn, the Fates themselves would watch in cryptic silence as the world they’d worked so hard to create fell to dust beneath their broken, damned seals. They would watch an entire pantheon of Gods weep in agony; their immortal tears shed for a time since lost to the pages of history. Yes, the Fates would watch as the world they knew fell to rubble and vanished, and with it, the souls they had spent so much time manipulating.

What would they be without their little pawns, their cackling, wretched fingers forever twisting the threads that wove the ancient tapestry? What would they be without their haughty, knowing smiles and impossible creeds and regulations meant to distort the human family to their own sinister ends? Such was a place soon to be discovered. Such was a place soon to be a terrifying reality.

Within the quiet, lonely chambers, he paced. The aura gracing his fast moving feet was of agitation, worry. He had made his choice long ago, and did not deny it, nor shrink from it. It had been his to make, and therefore should never have involved so many. The onyx-like feathering hair glimmered faintly by firelight, his mouth set in a firm line. Death waited for all of them now, it was too late to turn back. Perhaps the most frightening realization for the young man was that, given the same situation again, he wouldn’t have changed a single decision. The Fates could rot in their self-constructed hell for all he cared, and the Gods could be their whipped bedmates.

The whole damn mess was their doing; yet another twisted little game they’d played with the mortals. Well, they had lost this round, he knew. They had been forced to release the Demon Queen in hopes of repairing their awful mistake. Even should the battle prove to be their death, the Fates had been forced to sacrifice all to achieve it. It was a very small victory, but one he would take with pride. It was one he knew his sweet lover would approve of heartily.

His pace slowed a fraction at the thought of her. At their first meeting, she had come to him by moonlight. He had lain in the dewy springtime gardens of the palace beneath the warmth of the softly glowing orb, and she had come. Her form had been swathed in the mantle of the Immortals themselves, perfect in every curve and measure. Her eyes had been soft, beckoning, and his heart had answered the silent call, had felt the awesome power cleverly disguised as a beautiful Demi-God. 

But the meeting was ill fated. For the breathtaking Goddess had already been promised to another by the ever meddlesome Fates. Their decree left no room for discussion, for the two never should have met. He thanked all the great stars above and every ancestor he’d ever heard of for her rebellious spirit, her strong will. For without those two, such a love never could have existed, nor thrived in such adversity. 

The Fates had announced their fury. He had not cared. Even had she not been a Descendant of the Highest, he would have fallen the moment that gaze touched his face. Their disapproval mattered not. He had already given in, had broken Taboo, had defied the Gods themselves for her hand, for her soft kiss….

Midnight eyes steeled in determination as his pace quickened once more. He would make the same choice again, if only to have her. He walked the room; body tensed at the thought of the final battle, of leaving his father’s side to stand beside her, to protect her from a nightmare he had unknowingly created. The grim line of his mouth deepened as he thought of it. Perhaps there was one decision he would change freely; the meeting of the midnight witch in the fields to the north. Even the thought of her brought an angry curse to his lips. He had been so young…so naïve….

“Endymion.”

He spun on his heel, outrage clear on his anger sharpened features, to see who had dared approach him on such a night. Already he had been banished from the war council and the company of his men at arms for treason by his father. No other should dare to speak to him in his wrath. But his visitor bore no resemblance to any mortal man, tall form easily reaching the stone ceiling above his head, eyes as dark as the blackest pits of the underworld. He wore no symbols, no signs, yet the enraged prince could tell he was one of the Gods. 

He did not smile in greeting, his face was somber and long, and his hair a shadow not unlike the forest at night. The robes were a stoic grey, yet his presence filled the room with closely guarded power. Endymion felt as though his breath would freeze in the air between them as his visitor began to speak, filling the room with his words.

“I’ve come to offer you a second chance, young prince. The Fates have decreed your death, as well as that of my Lady.” His voice was hollow, as if caught behind him in a large chamber and lost to the eternities. It was this effect that gave way to the Being’s identity, and stilled Endymion’s thoughts. The prince peered curiously at the God before him, wondering why He, of all of them, would be the one to deliver his death sentence for rebellion. 

The news of his own fate pronounced so clearly in the small chamber made no difference. He had known at the first meeting that to love her and to be by her side would mean treason against the Gods. She was, after all, allotted to her own place and should never have been allowed to enter the guardian borders of Earth. He’d known that. He’d known only death awaited behind those silver eyes, her soft hands –yet he had gripped them anyway, and had held on tight ever since.

“I offer an exchange for your fate, if you will no longer be slaves to Them, become my willing servants.” He began again, setting the time key down against the stone as the Door of Eternity swirled into existence behind him. But his offer held no pull, for Endymion would rather die than be separated from the very cause of all his problems.

“No, my Lord Kronos.” He did not hesitate, did not bother to lower his eyes in some mock show of piety for One so powerful. As far as he was concerned, all the Gods had turned on him, and he would not allow Them to think for one moment that their intimidation would change anything. “What could an eternity of servitude to you offer me…if she is not there...?”

The question hung between them both, the only softness Endymion allowed past the careful barrier he had erected around himself. Kronos himself did not allow the smile to reach his face, but the temperature of the room altered, warmed at the defiance in the young man’s heart. He had indeed chosen his work very carefully.

“Her.” The word rang louder in the room than the earlier death sentence. Endymion paused his rapid thoughts, stilled the frustrated beating of his heart as his eyes settled firmly against those of the God of Time. “Do you accept?”

It was not often that the Gods chose to mislead mortals. All the same, it had been known to happen in the past to accomplish their twisted ends. Kronos himself had never been any part of the usual quarrels the other deities were so painfully remembered for in Terran books. If anything, the reigning forces had caused more problems than solved in the past 1000 years. Though They shielded them from outside forces that could easily erase human life on the planet, They did not simply leave the people of Earth in peace. How many times had Zeus himself caused a small war when laying with assorted maidens from one end of the land to the other, and his jealous wife Hera to destroy entire kingdoms in retaliation. They were more burdensome than helpful in the Prince’s mind, and he had few kind words to say to them. 

But the offer was enticing. Kronos was always depicted as distant, removed from worldly affairs, locked away in his proverbial tower to safeguard the timeline and guide the prominent events to fruition. He would not be a likely candidate for trickery, and he very easily could use a servant of some kind to aid in guiding such circumstances. Shrewdly, midnight blue eyes slanted in thought as he opened his mouth to respond in the other’s waiting silence.

“If I have your word she will be exclusively mine forever.”

Kronos felt a tiny, nearly invisible smile peak at the corners of his mouth. The intensity and power hidden within the young man’s eyes was more than evident, nearly titanic in immensity, and would soon be lost to the unknowing Fates should he fail in this mission. It was with this end, and others yet unknown to the world, that he weighed the next few words with an eternal promise.

“Accept, and the two of you shall be Bound.” Endymion found himself feeling very strangely beneath the steady promise in Kronos’ eyes, as if he were being sized up for something larger. Some part of him knew that it could be a trick, it could be a trap of some kind to avert the coming war… but none of that really mattered to him beside the promise of her forever… “If this is your heart’s desire, listen carefully to my words, young one. The love you have shared with My Lady has torn the timeline free from it’s set course, and has sent it spinning towards the darkness. This world will not survive the coming battle. Having seen that this might come to pass, I have arranged for a second chance, both for this world and the next. If you wish to agree, it is with full knowledge that your soul shall never find it’s way to the immortal fields of Elysium. The both of you shall be forever Bound to one another and to my whims as the God of Time. But know this, Prince of Terra, that should you ever break her heart, the Binding spell shall break likewise, but your contract with me shall remain eternal.”

Endymion was not a brash man. He did not make decisions based on fanciful thoughts or feelings. Now, faced with the greatest contract he would ever consider, he knew already the decision he would make without thinking, without feeling. After all, who else could ensure his Serenity’s eternal safety in his arms, or the allure of a thousand lifetimes at her side? No hill in Elysium could possibly compare, no battle would ever be too threatening so long as she stood beside him. The ominous warning Kronos had offered mere moments before held no validity in Endymion’s mind, for he knew it was impossible for any portion of his soul to ever reject the sweet presence of the Immortal, even should she be reborn as a human.

It was with this resolve that hands were outstretched and clasped, and the greatest contract ever created in history was made. That day, the sealing Keys were given, the ancient spell begun, and the world thrown into a blackness only to be dispersed by the creation of a new existence. In the end, it meant the sacrifice of countless worlds and souls, the loss of an entire pantheon of Gods that once ruled supreme in the heavens, yet it was a small thing indeed, for all hope for a future rested on the blinding, eternal love of the two Titans, and their never ending journey through the corridors of time. Thus begins our story.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Usagi grinned at her friends anxiously, and feeling her heart beat mumble and falter in her chest. She had woken up with the oddest sense that something important was going to happen, and that she was going to be right in the middle of it. Her senses had failed her before, of course, and nothing had been out of place today to give any clue toward the meaning behind the strange sense of foreboding. After all, the day she’d met Luna had felt just like any old day. It was because of this thought that she forced a happy smile to her face, and tried hard to brush away the uncomfortable feeling. Ami and Rei had both wanted to take a short break after their strenuous school day and the three of them had headed instinctively to the arcade. The young blond entered the sliding glass doors, flanked by her closest friends. 

The inside was bustling with summer life, each seat filled to near capacity as the late July air blew in front the doorway behind them. Strands of black and blond hair mingled in the oncoming breeze before the doors slid resolutely shut behind them. The uncomfortable breath lodged in her throat, fueled by anxiety as she wished silently for the justification she felt unable to receive. It was too much to ask, as each of them continued to jibber in their high-pitched, school girl voices. The arcade could only offer so many answers to a question she didn’t know.

Her eyes scanned the packed rows, sure to see a familiar someone sipping coffee at the front bar and talking casually with his best friend. Under normal circumstances, she never sought the poor man out to have a verbal spat, but today was different. She needed to get rid of that weird feeling growing within her, and a fight would work just as well as any distraction. She was rewarded with the familiar sight of his heavy black locks reflecting the afternoon sunlight, and beside him another head of blond. How very predictable the man was, and how freakishly boring sometimes. It was true, the object of her eternal torment was a very good looking man with brains and cash and a killer smile, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t set your watch to him. 

Directly behind him, lodged into the first booth like shower mildew, sat a group of pristinely dressed students from Azubu University. Their haircuts were all according to the latest styles, clothes pressed and fit to perfection, and identified by a club patch emblazoned on their left shoulders. Even the sight of their snobby, upturned little faces caused Usagi to shudder with displeasure. It was the ever present fan club that seemed welded to his side every time he stepped out in public. One could almost hear the drool hitting the table as each pair of greedy, glittering eyes watched his every movement. Conspiratorial whispers ruffled against the regular afternoon din; daintily manicured hands lifted to mask their secrets. The young school girl tried to hide her obvious disgust at the ‘elite’ group of ravenous fans as she strolled familiarly toward the front counter.

“Motoki-onii-chan!” She called good naturedly, waving to one of her best friends in the whole world. The blond college student glanced up, grinning ear to ear and whipping out his notebook. “Three double cheeseburgers, one bacon Swiss, hold the ketchup, two bar-b-que beef burgers, large fries each with two cokes, a 7up, lemonade, and a tropical freeze slushy.”  
“I got 3 regulars, 1 Jimmy, no juice, 2 cowboys, shoelaces, 2 liquid crack, a fizzy water, a sourpuss and a frozen Jamaican.” She gave the thumbs up sign and he blew at the tip of his pencil expertly in reply. “How was your day?” He asked conversationally as the burgers where flopped onto the grill. She shrugged non-committaly and settled herself on the counter to wait. 

It was the routine; the girls would somehow find a place to sit among the crowds while Usagi had an order shoot-out with the arcade manager and then waited for it to be filled. The complete normalcy of their earlier actions did little to relieve the sense of foreboding curled into her chest, but she brushed it aside resolutely. Now was not a time for doom and all those other useless things. The crowds around them seemed to quiet down the tiniest bit at the appearance of the blond, as if waiting for the fireworks to start as she settled herself into a stool a few down from his. She didn’t meet his eyes; there was no need to put forth any effort to gain his attentions. He had, since they met, been unfortunately drawn to her for all the wrong reasons. His dark blue eyes rose from the painfully obscure drink like clockwork, and signaled yet another epic battle had begun.

“Only ordering for yourself today? The others might get hungry.” He taunted darkly, leaning back in the stool. Usagi pointedly ignored the ensuing laughter as the crowd immersed itself in the beginnings of another fight. The small group of girls crooning over his every word giggled wickedly at the clever remark. Usagi did her best to ignore the snide comments whispered from the side lines, and focused sharp, predatory eyes on her arch-rival.

“Oh, don’t be jealous Mamoru, some day your poor, undeveloped stomach might be able to handle solid food.” Mamoru blinked in surprise at her witty comeback, mind whirring into action as they slid into a typical daily fight.

“If it means turning myself into a human vacuum, I’m really not interested. Who knows what all the junk food does to your brain –no wonder you’re so stunted.” His grin was wicked and cruel as the group broke into uproarious laughter at her expense. She just shrugged, unaffected by the low blow to her grades. It was one he pulled every day, and to be perfectly honest, Usagi could only hear it so many times before becoming bored with the same old insult.

“That comment made no sense coming from someone who only drinks coffee -no wonder you’re such a bitter, uninteresting person.” The shot did little to amuse the girls in booth 1, nor did it even fizzle against the giant titan known as Mamoru’s Pride. He shook his head methodically, standing from the seat to swagger over closer to her; long, lean body sprawling against the counter beside her. It was causing the breath to lodge painfully in her throat to have him so close. The fact that she could lean forward and actually touch that perfectly sculptured chest hardly helped the fact, and she found herself swallowing whatever insult might have come to mind.

“Oh yes, I’m so boring, aren’t I? That must be the reason why I have one of the highest GPA’s in the university, unlike you, or the fact that I have my own fan club, unlike you. But you must be right, Odango. You’re just a ridiculous, ditzy little peon and therefore must have a personality, right?” The words whipped a cold winter’s wind directly into her chest as the crowd laughed cruelly from behind. Instead of the usually vicious jab to the grades, he’d gone directly for the jugular and attacked her at the weakest point. Her eyes flashed furiously, but her heart sunk in despair.

“I am interesting, I’m at least human!” She screeched in his face, angry and hurt at the way he tore her down from the inside out. The triumphantly arctic grin that coated his face then froze her blood and caused her fingers to clench tightly at the seat cushion below her.

“About as human as some infantile doll, maybe. You’re about as original as a manufactured American heiress without the good looks. And lets face it, Odango, when the face is all you have, and you don’t even have that, you’re suddenly just like every other vapid little middle-schooler who can’t function on days she doesn’t get her Sailor V time.” His eyes flashed like the frosty, dead snow of December in the moonlight as he straightened himself and turned to reclaim the seat he’d left behind. “Yup, I’m intrigued.”

“Mamoru!” Motoki growled warningly from the grill, angry words lost in the lime green apron tied to his front. Given the strange picture the tall, blond man made, Mamoru's answering look was less than intimidated. 

Usagi barely registered her friend’s stern voice in the humiliating aftermath of his cruelty. She’d always prided herself on her fun-loving, outgoing personality. It wasn’t something often seen among the calm, collected people of Japan, and everyone seemed to like her for it. But to hear that she was just like some heiress (whatever that meant, it had to be derogatory) crushed what small bit of self confidence she had. Her head hung low in defeat, unable to refute his words. She remained silent, afraid if she spoke her voice would crack and betray her secret.

Had the dashing young man even bothered to look in her direction, he might have been rewarded with a few simple tears streaking down her pale, shaking face. He didn’t care. Usagi felt herself shiver helplessly at the thought. The only thing he bothered to deal with was his schoolwork, his job, and making her feel lower than dirt. Well, once again he’d accomplished his goal for the day. As if by design, Usagi found herself awkwardly picking at the lint on her school uniform, pretending not to exist.

“Usa-chan, you ok?” Motoki prodded near silently as the tray with their food was set before her. She simply nodded, and stood wordlessly to return to the others. It would have been stupid to even offer a resistance at this pointless, she just wanted to get to the booth and eat her food without any more problems. Knowing the girls were watching from the back, she moved swiftly down the aisles and refused to even raise both blue eyes to meet his as she left.

Motoki felt the anger rising in his chest as he watched her go, faintly noting the snobby college girls in the first booth comment on her hair and clothes. He had been watching her walk away every day for a year and a half now, and it seemed she gave in a little more quickly each day to the taunts, the viscous jabs, the cold eyes of his best friend. Everyday her shoulders hung a little lower, her eyes lost a little sparkle, and her usual spitfire personality faded. It was something he had been trying to help her work through, but it didn’t seem to have the desired effect. 

“Motoki, can I get another?” Mamoru queried from the other side of the counter and the usually personable man shot him a glare that promised slow, painful mutilation should his best friend unwisely choose to ignore his demands. One shadow black eyebrow lifted curiously at the look, though he didn’t appear otherwise effected by it.

“No. Not until you go apologize.” The arcade manager turned his back resolutely on the shocked heart throb, too angry to say anything else. He’d been standing on the sidelines long enough. It was time Mamoru got taken down a peg or two –even if his best friend was the one to do it.

“For what? That little brat has done nothing but earned what she got. If she didn’t like it, she shouldn’t have fought back.” Mamoru bit out coldly, not liking the way Motoki was siding with that whiny little blond kid from the Jr. High.

“She hardly fights back at all anymore because of you! Now go say you’re sorry.” Mokoti’s stern brown eyes found Mamoru’s icy blue. Had Mamoru not known his friend at all, he would have assumed that the green apron was merely a disguise for who was in reality a cage fighter. He’d never seen the usually fun-loving young man actually angry before, let alone the emotion burning a permanent crease in the usually smooth forehead. Sure, they had fought every once in a while, but in all seriousness? Motoki? “I’m not kidding, and I’m not giving it up, Mamoru-kun. Go apologize, right now.”

The sudden sound of the chair legs clawing at the floor caused the hair on the back of Usagi’s neck to stand up straight. She had just settled herself in beside the other two and was consciously minding her own business as Rei gushed on and on incessantly about boys –Mamoru in particular. Her heart couldn’t honestly handle the conversation, given what she’d come here for today, and what had just happened at the front of the room. It was that tooth-shattering noise that caused her big blue eyes to scan the room furtively in search of who had caused it. To her horror, Chiba Mamoru was already stalking his way toward the back with all the dark grace of a movie star villain. The aura about him was irritated, but lazy; eyes focused on her, but perpetually bored. The other groups in the room quieted down enough to hear what would pass between the two of them. She quickly averted her eyes, wishing the ground would open and swallow her whole instead of have to face him after such a stinging retort as the last one.

“Odango,” he began; his voice a low, gruff sound that grated against her eardrums. She didn’t bother to look up at him. She didn’t even bother to breathe. Her pale face was still shaking slightly, though he didn’t seem to notice her obvious discomfort. Such a thing would never matter to a man like him. Rumor had it he spent every weekend with a different girl just so he wouldn’t have to get emotionally involved. Such a man didn’t have messy things like feelings. That was what made his following words so utterly painful. “I’m sorry, k?” 

She closed her eyes as the same December storm blew frigid ice into her heart, and caused her to shiver in pain. She hated Motoki right then, that he would think some fake apology would fix everything. There was no doubt in her mind that was exactly what had happened at the front counter. Her ‘big brother’ was probably holding something ransom to make him do it; like that stupid black coffee or some such nonsense. Her mouth tightened into a hard line as he stood there for a moment longer. Maybe he was waiting for her to accept his ridiculous words as the truth. If so, he wasn’t as smart as everyone pegged him to be. His sharp black shoes turned a moment later and he began walking toward the front; fueling her pent up anger and giving her the guts to stand up again. Usagi no longer hesitated at the rage rushing up from the pit of her stomach. It was too much, and the lie he’d just thrown at her carelessly had tossed her over the edge.

“Mamoru-baka!” She screeched angrily, throwing herself to her feet as the young man turned to glare contemptuously at her. She didn’t even think anymore as her hands grabbed the first thing they could and threw with a deadly accuracy she could only muster when he was close. The bar-b-q burger splattered all over his clothes, coating them in thick brown goo as the first feeling expression of rage broke across his face. “If you think some pathetic attempt to say sorry to me is going to get you that stupid cup of coffee from ‘Toki-onii-chan, you’re out of your friggin’ mind!”

Mamoru could only stare as the 5 foot nothing pipsqueak shrieked bloody murder before allowing the rage to sink back into the calm sea of emotions he kept under lock and key. Almost disinterestedly, he eyed the goopy damage with disgust and no small amount of irritation. The sauce from her burger was now dripping down his black shirt onto his shoes and the floor, looking all the while like some demented form of blood from a black and white movie. His dark, steely blue eyes rose from the mess at his feet to clash against her gaze heatedly.

“What? Your pathetic excuse for a brain couldn’t come up with something better than to throw food like a barbarian? I hope you know you’re paying to clean these now.”

“Go screw yourself!” She shot back, hardly taking the time to react to his previous statement. The girls gasped in shock at her words as his eyebrow rose in amusement.

“I understand you’ve had no experience in the matter, but just FYI, that’s impossible to do given human anatomy.” Heat seared her cheeks at the sudden mental image and she sputtered helplessly, forcing the thought from her mind. Why, WHY did he have to DO that! “And I hope you also know that you just cost me a damn good cup of coffee just to sound like an idiot again. If you wanted to do that, you should have just opened your mouth like any other time.”

Her jaw dropped as yet again, the unfeeling man before her blatantly and mercilessly shredded her. It hadn’t been so bad in the beginning. Their spats had been nothing but childish. But she had used them as a stress reliever from the Youma, the grades, other Senshi, and anything else she could think of. After some time they had become more venomous and more hurtful. Especially now, she thought mournfully, most especially now. 

The rage built in her chest at the thought of him feeling so secure, so controlled in his little mathematically engineered world of perfection that he felt the inane need to squash what tiny bit of self esteem she had, to crush forever how she saw herself. As it was, she hadn’t even been able to look in a mirror for weeks, had stared listlessly onward as Rei drug her in and out of mall shops to find yet another model outfit. Usagi never bothered to try them on anymore, everything made her look young and foolish and nothing ever looked good on her scrawny, short form. 

“You are SUCH a cocky, egotistical, rude JACK OFF!” She screamed, scrambling over everyone in the booth to chase him down half way through the arcade. He just watched her coming with those expressionless, winter eyes of his; uncaring, unmoving –a solid barrier in her world that would seemingly never move and never resolve itself. “I don’t know WHY I bother even talking to you, because I already know what you’re going to say. You’re about as predictable as a city bus! The only thing that ever changes is how much of a cold bastard you are!”

He scoffed quietly at the accusation, hardly bothering to shift his feet in response to the short spitfire before him. Her blond head barely hit mid chest, yet she was standing as if she could look him straight in the eye. Well, he mused quietly, the little girl was finally getting a little more backbone. This could make round two a bit more interesting. He didn’t bother to weigh the options of a second fight, but slid into form like a snake simply shedding it’s skin.

“I would much rather be a predictable, ordered human being than some chaotic, crack induced idiot flitting around the place like it’s always high on something.” His snide remark was met with a low growl as she reached forward to prod him in the chest heavily.

“And at least I’M not so self-righteous as to assume that anyone younger than me is somehow lesser than me!” He regarded the short schoolgirl gloweringly, noting that she was pathetically young and almost painfully childish. Maybe if she was lucky, she’d get smart about her lack of intelligence, but until then he’d simply have to educate the poor, stupid child. That irritatingly smug smile crept over his face, causing her blood to boil.

“And at least I’m not wasting oxygen that smart people could be using,” he stated heatedly, eyes flashing in the afternoon sunlight. Frustration gave way to heartache and she grunted angrily, pounding a fist against his chest though it didn’t even make the large man blink.

“Why did I EVER let myself fall in love with you….” What had begun as an aggravated screech, died suddenly on her lips as she realized what she’d just hollered blatantly to his face. One jet black, pristine eyebrow cocked amusedly and a grim smile of the executioner stretched languidly across his perfect lips. Usagi unconsciously stepped backward, blanching violently till her whole frame seemed to grey.

“Fallen in love with me, hu?” he chuckled to himself quietly. The bustling arcade had gone deathly silent beneath the confession and now waited on baited breath to see what would happen between the two of them. Some of the regulars had assumed that this day would eventually come. They were decidedly split on what exactly would happen once it did, but none had any doubt in their mind that at least one of the combat-ees would fall for the other.

Usagi was horrified that her traitorous mouth had given away the secret she’d kept safely hidden between the pages of her diary, the folds of her heart, hoping that over time it would quietly erase itself. She was frighteningly aware that at any point during the next comment, she would simply lose consciousness and flop haphazardly to the floor in a final display of pathetic immaturity. She tried to hold herself steady, but the terrified shaking of her limbs gave evidence to her fear of the older, much more sophisticated man before her. Her heart felt like lead in her chest, pulling into herself so the next comment wouldn’t completely destroy her. It was a fruitless act, one that she was sure would make her laugh bitterly someday at her own stupidity.

“What a sad, sad little confession.” His eyes searched her coldly, demeanor even farther distant if that were possible. “You’re just like them, aren’t you? Just some simpering little girl with ‘hopes and dreams’ that one day the great Chiba Mamoru would look at you and suddenly see something worth loving.” His bitter laugh slid a frozen blade between her ribs “Newsflash, blondie, you’re 6 years younger than me, have a mind that any 3 year old would kill for, and you’re too scrawny to be tempting even in the slightest. I couldn’t ever love you, and chances are no one else could either.”  
He didn’t even bother to watch long enough for her to race from the arcade in a flurry of tears and sobs.  
…………………………………………


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Days after the terrible incident in the arcade, Motoki still hadn’t forgiven his best friend. According to all reports, Usagi had been completely devastated by his comments, and even refused to leave the house for a few days. (The arcade manager had reminded him of this many times in their short, angered text messages.) It was all the same to Mamoru, however. The world was a safer place with the infamous Odango locked away in a room, somewhere she couldn’t accidentally trip and kill anyone or permanently damage the eardrum of an innocent passerby. Unfortunately, however, the disturbing little bonus he’d gained from the fight had been his banishment from the Crown for two weeks.

It was why his eyes met with a cool golden oak tabletop, instead of red Formica, and that his coffee cup no longer looked old and well loved around the chipped and worn handle. Instead it was unfeeling foam with some semblance of a demented mascot painted across it’s happy face. His eyes darkened in fury at the sight of the little thing. A bunny, as if to mock him with the exact reason why he’d been kicked out of his favorite coffee place. This stupid chain couldn’t even handle a regular black, they’d gone and put something in it as a sweetener. Ice mocha…frappe…cappuccino…God he hated this place. You say regular, they say ‘oh, but wouldn’t you like a shot of energy booster-ma-thingies? Would you like any artificial flavoring or sweetener to make your grey matter look like a small crater?’ Midnight blue eyes narrowed ominously, fingers tightened around the creepy, deranged bunny face on his cup. No, this place was not acceptable either.

Besides, it was so quiet here he could actually hear the pathetic drivel called his fan club cooing in the background. It was unnerving and completely irritating; so much so that he didn’t bother pretending they weren’t there. Even with the lure of advanced business management to help him forget, their shrill little voices and pathetic ‘Mamoru-sama’s’ gurgled behind his ear enough to make any sane man sick to his stomach. It was days like this one that made him truly hate whoever had put together his particular gene pool. It wasn’t enough to slap some brains on him and say, ‘There you are, my boy! Now, go invent cold fusion!’ Instead, he had to look like some freakish porn star –and that attracted more foolish attention than it was worth.

God, women were so stupid. What he wouldn’t do to trade all of them for test tubes and mathematical equations. At least then, they’d be useful for something, and they’d shut the hell up! He shot an irritated glance at the group as one of them whispered his name too loud and nearly fainted dead away. This set off a whole new round of girlish quibbles about whom he had cast his eye on. He looked away in irritation.  
Every time he took a single step free of the apartment, it was like they homed in on him and buzzed just barely out of eyeshot like a swarm of flies until he settled himself in comfortably. Then it was a free-for-all to any booth near him –occupied or not. Every once in a while, one of the herd would get brave and approach him, but for the most part they realized he liked his personal space. Both eyes rolled heavenward in disgust at the thought. He’d begun turning it into a nice little game for them, that way he could be amused, and they could feel as useless as they actually were.

Icy sweet fingers of fear clasped his chest tightly, sending a shot of adrenaline directly into his blood stream and caused his soul to shiver with excitement. A light sheen of sweat began to bead across his smooth forehead at the quick flash that brushed against his psyche. The feelings were not his own, but a welcome intrusion to a boring day. A wicked grin crossed his face, hidden from the crowd by a carefully concealing hand. 

Well, not all women were useless; he amended to himself before digging his wallet free.

Ditching the fan club was routine by now as he stood and made his way tactfully to the only place they wouldn’t go. He’d made the mistake on a few occasions of quietly attempting to slip out the bathroom window, but having seen exactly how far their fanaticism went, he silently hoped there was an air duct or something to climb through. One hated to be overdramatic like that, but for the ravenous hordes to know his secret identity would mean signing himself up for a lifetime and a half of this nonsense, and he would not allow it. It was the horror of this prospect alone that kept him from doing something asinine like trying to find an alley or something. The girls would follow him in a heartbeat, and that made for awkwardly long periods of searching for just the right spot. It was to this trait that he owed many of the deadly last-minute rescues he’d been performing for quite some time now.

The awkward placement of such a hiding spot made it near impossible for any ravenous fan to follow so long as they were properly attired in the school uniform, or anything remotely close to it. He found himself fervently praising the heavens for whoever had invented skirts for them. The terrifying idea that they might break a nail or flash their pathetic bodies to the world kept them from moving too quickly or trying anything stupid, should he ever be forced to make such an escape while they watched. Yes, skirts for women were like leashes for dogs. It kept them in their place, predictably clean, and out of his way. 

A service door across from the men’s bathroom had, amazingly, been left ajar. Praising his luck that none of the fan-girls had bothered to follow him down the hallway; he slipped through the exit and into the open air. Within moments, he was on the roof, black and red cape whipping in the late afternoon wind. The sly smile playing at the corner of his mouth betrayed his innermost thoughts as the adrenaline began coursing through his system. This was what he lived and breathed for, a chance to see a real woman, to lift her perfect little body from immanent doom, feel her shiver against him…

They had been fighting together for almost a year and a half now, and he had hardly been able to look anywhere else in nearly as long. Few women could hope to compare to his young charge, both in looks and personality. Few, he amended, meaning none. It was this train of thought that had lead him to believe that all other females were completely hopeless, and not some ridiculous self worship as others tended to view it. It was simply that the Senshi herself would be the only one occupying his mind at any particular moment, and no other could ever come close. A year and a half was a long time to fight together. His thoughts were merely a natural extension of the time spent.

Well, today’s battle would go just a little bit differently. After all, today was August 3rd. The wolfish grin split his handsome face as he leapt toward the scene. He’d never been given a birthday present that he actually enjoyed in his life, but that didn’t mean it was going to stay that way. If the lithe little blonde’s body language had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t have any objections at all.

……………………………………

Usagi was tired and sick, two things that made the trip to the Hikawa shrine long and unpleasant. The hot August sun felt as though it were sizzling the uncomfortable weight in her lungs like fried eggs, and it burned through her short sleeve t-shirt like it was nothing. It was just a few days after her less than triumphant fight with Mamoru, and she had spent them simpering in bed with the flu. A heavy cough ripped at her tiny frame as she shivered again. She shouldn’t be out right now, it was only about half way through the virus, her mom had said. That much was obvious though, her head felt dizzy and light, and her stomach churned abominably in the humidity. 

The others had called a meeting of some kind. It was a worthless gesture since the Dark Kingdom hadn’t attacked in the past two weeks and nothing new had turned up according to Ami-chan’s computer. A frustrated look flittered between her golden eyebrows as she thought about Rei’s voice over the communicator. This meeting had to be so she could rub her all-powerful skills in Usagi’s face, or that the great fire had somehow tipped off her inner psycho-whatever. The brunette hadn’t even asked if she was feeling any better. Of course, she assumed that little bundle of joy probably sprouted from the arcade the other day.  
Ami and Rei had tried to come over after the fight, but Usagi had no desire to see them. It was true, she had been in love with Mamoru for nearly a year and a half now and hadn’t known it until just recently. She didn’t really see how that was possible, given his egotistical, self centered attitude, but there were times when he just seemed so…alone. It was in those times that that soft little place in her heart would burn a little, ache a little to help him be happy. Oh, but what a stupid thought that had been. Chiba Mamoru was always alone, and he preferred it that way.

Yet another silent tear squeezed out past her eyelashes, marking at least the millionth since his harsh words. Maybe even worse than all of that was the knowledge that it would take a very long time to forget him. She knew only because she’d been trying to do that since day one. It was so obvious that he could have his pick of any of the smart, sophisticated college girls that made up the core of his fan-club, that he could send any girl screaming over the edge with one look, one smile. She had known that if her feelings were ever to be public knowledge, he would laugh that chillingly cold December laugh, and crush her fragile heart into the ice. Hence why she had been trying so hard to forget everything she’d ever felt for him since the beginning.

Well, a lot of good that did her. She’d just blurted it out in a fit of rage, not even thinking about it…

No. She wasn’t going to obsess about that day. She was going to move on. She was going to stop eating at the crown, stop hanging out at the corner on her way to school, stop staring at him as he drank his coffee, and stop watching him read in the park. She nibbled her lip at all of those determinations, suddenly realizing what a stalker she’d turned out to be. Her mother would be so proud. A sloppy little giggle broke free from her somber face at her mother’s antics.

A shrill baby cry broke through the afternoon din and Usagi felt her nerves stand painfully at attention. Her breathing was hampered due to the current state of her lungs, but she could tell the child was terrified. Another voice soon followed and her feet began to pound across the pavement toward them. If it was just a mother…if it was just a little tizzy…. Her stomach vaulted in protest to her movements just as she slid to a stop in front of a small house. The sign outside read Baby Garden Adventures, and would have been passed off as nothing if several more hollers hadn’t erupted at the same time. 

Her Senshi senses heightened to the call and she glanced around curiously, hoping for some place to hide among the humble, one story suburban houses. The only cover in sight was a small trash can and the homes themselves. Grumbling to herself, she quietly made her way to the neighbor’s yard, and hoped no hentai middle-school students were home to watch the light show.

Her henshin was done quickly, made awkward by a small lapdog that seemed a little too interested in the transformation process for her comfort. Moon quickly moved toward the back of the yard, noting methodically that something big and slimy was currently draining a caretaker as Jadeite looked on in the background. Anger sizzled just below the surface of her consciousness and she found herself jumping the fence easily despite the sudden loss of vertigo.

“I really hate being a Senshi.” She muttered before flinging her tiara with as much energy as she could muster. She flew through the introductions quickly, noting that Jadeite didn’t bother to stick around for the whole fight, though it began in a matter of seconds after the speech. She hadn’t bothered to call the other girls in her rush to save the children, and normally wouldn’t have been bothered by it. Unfortunately, she forgot about having the flu.

Her body was slow and sluggish due to the fever that still wracked her system, making it difficult to dodge all of the attacks. She wasn’t used to being thrown around on an upset stomach either, and quickly found herself weaving sickly between hits. She should have taken time to call the Senshi, but the thought hadn’t crossed her mind before jumping to the lady’s aid, and now wasn’t the best time to be doing so. Her mouth tightened into a grim smile. No doubt the others would find more than enough fault there.

The young girl felt a little punch drunk after the second explosion and found herself going down on both knees to regain the moment. Her head hurt abominably and kept spinning around in circles. She was bad enough normally, but not feeling well made her klutz attacks ten times worse. The babies were screaming bloody murder in her ears, the youma was laughing and firing exploding diapers at her, and she felt the whole world tilt sideways as her legs slipped out from under her. Pathetic tears rolled down her cheeks as the ground met her aching sides, her stomach lurching in protest to all the commotion.

Her hands went beneath her to steady the rumbling ground as she struggled back to her knees. Her stomach lurched hard within her, leaving the girl gasping and clutching her pounding head as the smell of her half-eaten sandwich returned full force. One glance downward proved the unthinkable as she forced herself to look away. Of all the weak, pathetic things she could have…thrown up in the middle of a battle?! She really WAS the biggest ditz in all of Tokyo!

Sailor Moon forced herself to her feet, wobbling only slightly though the pressure had been removed from her head. It was a little crazy, but that made her feel loads better! Suddenly the monster didn’t seem nearly as scary as it had before as she ripped the moon wand from her subspace pocket. 

That might have been due to the fact that he wasn’t even facing her.

Her movements were cut short as the monster lifted a young screaming child from the ground. Her breathing stopped at the sight of the little thing. His face was screwed up tightly in irritation and fear, pudgy little cheeks dyed red in the afternoon light. One gloved fist clenched in anger, her legs moving unbidden beneath her.

She swung out a heavy roundhouse, easily knocking the diapered atrocity to the ground as she dove for the shrieking child. Her knees slammed hard into the grass, baby held precariously in her quickly weakening arms. She jumped to her feet, hurriedly racing across the lawn to get as far away from the monster as possible. The pounding of it’s footsteps weren’t far behind before her foot caught on a toy and sent her sprawling into the ground. She cradled the baby close, careful to take the brunt of the impact as rocks and dirt dug painfully across her side.

She was so stupid! The child was screeching murder directly into her throbbing head, the youma sure to attack any moment, and she trips?! She clutched at his tiny frame, waiting for the monster to attack as her fingers fumbled for the tiara once more. Her actions were too late, thought. One large, strong fist closed around her throat and yanked, spots swam before her eyes and her grip fell slack as she was mercilessly hauled into the air. The combination of energy loss and asphyxiation on her tired body sent all thoughts of counter attack skittering into the darkening corners of her mind. She just felt weak and tired, she wanted the fighting to stop long enough to make some sense of it all, and she wanted desperately to find the poor child’s mother.

Why am I such a failure, she thought as the hot tears poured from her eyes once more. Knowing her plight was seconds from ending, she reached limply for the frightened child as the hope drained from her limbs.

Then, it was over. The world slammed into her aching legs, ground across her forearms, and scratched her face. She gulped greedily at the air, coughing against the painfully restricted airway as it struggled to regain it’s shape. Her vision cleared slowly as the earth rumbled in response to an attack. The Senshi? She coughed again, groping blindly in the grass to find the baby from earlier.

“It’s ok, Moon, I’ve got him.” The dark timbre of his voice might as well have been the halleluiah chorus for all it mattered to her. His hand gripped her elbow, helped her to stand and steady herself as the world washed itself in color. The strange golden sparks crackled along her arm from his hand, strengthening her for the final attack. “One shot,” he called through the battle cry of the monster, “Can you make it without hitting the caretaker?”

She nodded mutely, straightening as her weapon was summoned a second time. With his hand at her back and a quick glance behind at the children, she set her feet and hefted the wand high in the air. Her voice was soft and pathetic, and she felt the energy draining from her body to arc toward the weapon and onward at the monster before her. The sizzling energy burned at her fingers painfully, sent ants crawling along her arms in weariness as the attack hurtled toward the monster, ending the painful shriek of anger that threatened to make her head explode.

The sudden unbearable weight of her body left her a slumping mess on the ground, aching head lowered as the spinning effect took it’s toll. She felt sick all over again, but was sure that any sign of her illness would only cause to enrage her quiet protector and get her yelled at from yet another side. She had no intention of letting him know about her stupid little escapade that nearly got her killed, but instead took the moment to steady herself before sending dazed blue eyes around the small yard.

Much to her relief, Tuxedo Kamen had beat a hasty retreat after the attack, per norm, and left her to deal with whatever was left over. Though part of her truly despised that particular habit of his, she was also infinitely grateful that he’d chosen to do so today of all days. After all, one good look at her and the inconspicuous pile of vomit on the other side of the yard would be enough evidence for a conviction. She grimaced at her thoughts, forcing her jellied legs to work as she hefted herself up from the ground.

……………………………

Tuxedo Kamen watched in interest as the young woman surged to her feet. Her stance was wary and confused as she scanned the area cautiously, golden head turning toward the cowering children in concern first and foremost. The action brought a strange twitch in his chest, and he allowed himself little time to wonder curiously at his reaction as he watched her. She bent to check each one, long curves prominently displayed as she reached for them, touching their faces with all the tenderness of a mother.

The young girl was careful to examine each tiny bundle, leaving him completely baffled. She was wasting precious time, the news vans would be pulling up soon. Anyone within a mile and a half would have heard the explosions and come running. But she was still crouching there, fingers tugging playfully at one tiny baby as she grinned softly. Across the yard, the caretaker was beginning to come around, shifting uncomfortably on the grass and signaling the end had come for the delighted blond. Moon took one look at the recovering woman before placing the baby down into the grass again. Kamen shoved his earlier thoughts to the side resolutely, mouth trained into a grim smile as he watched her turn toward the city.

His timing would have to be immaculate; he’d never followed her despite selfish curiosity. Her civilian form was an honor he was willing to earn with time, so he wanted to be sure and catch her in uniform. He had no desire to rush things; the goal was a solid, permanent arrangement and absolute trust on both sides. However those two things might come, he was willing to sacrifice both pride and time to achieve them. The plans had been made far in advance, her reaction had been painstakingly prognosticated, and therefore all was within his mathematically engineered grasp. The grin became soft and confident as he quickly raced after the object of his infatuation.

His feelings, he was sure, spouted from a pure source within. He had known the effects of blind lust more than a few times, but what he felt for the young warrior was definitely more refined than just that. He’d been unimpressed at first, what with her shrieking helplessly like a frightened child. It was another point to women that he’d noted; place any woman in a dangerous situation and they’ll sit and scream blood murder till someone useful came along to save them. 

She’d started out just like the rest of the simpering little nothings he’d been dealing with for years. But in time, she’d developed, grown stronger –and with that quickly tightening backbone of hers, so had his strangely reeling heart. Anymore it was all he could do to tear his hands free in time for her finishing attack. And, it was with the dawning realization of his obsession with her, that he knew these short little get-togethers were definitely not enough to satiate the need…

Of course she would have to find an appropriate place to de-transform, safely tucked away from the eyes of the world before making her way back into the crowds. It was with this thought that he followed for a good two miles before the Moon Senshi dropped down between two buildings, signaling his moment had come. At least she had the luxury of any old alleyway, he mused ironically to himself. Maybe if he could figure out a way to ditch the fan club for good he could do the same, and actually show up on time for once. He leapt down on the other end, careful not to make a sound as he landed and released the pent up energy swirling around his form.

Chiba Mamoru stood there moments later, raking a hand through his hair and checking farther down to make sure she hadn’t noticed any sudden movements. Her fingers were clawing at the choker around her pale neck, face flushed and breathing hampered. The sight was normal after a two mile run; it was a distance his little heroine could handle easily he was sure. He couldn’t have timed it better had he known how to; she was obviously hesitating to change back. He slinked forward carefully, eyes latched to her soft form lit by the gentle sunlight filtering in from above. He would have taken a moment to admire the long golden curls playing in the afternoon rays as he usually did, but time was a factor. Any moment she could de-transform and unknowingly surrender her identity to him.

“Excuse me,” he called softly, watching as her warrior instincts shot her up from against the building, fighter stance ready as she peered toward him. Apparently he had chosen the perfect hiding spot; she seemed unable to pierce the gloom with those soft silvery-blue eyes. He stalked toward the light slowly, afraid moving any faster would cause her to attack in a moment of confusion. Especially after a fight, he was asking to get hit by one of those nasty little roundhouse kicks he’d seen her throw when he arrived at the battle. Even the thought caused a ripple of attraction to erupt in his lower stomach as sunlight finally warmed his face.

He could see her visibly tense at his appearance, eyes slanting guardedly and the muscles in her legs tightening. She must have known he wasn’t going to attack; he didn’t exactly have anything gelatinous about him, or even an extra leg or arm or something. Her reaction to him was interesting to say the least. He held no particular preconceptions, after all Moon might never have heard of him if she only got out for battles, but he had been named the most eligible bachelor in Tokyo. The title must hold some sort of benefits; and if not the city’s most elusive heroine, then this world held no justice. 

“Can I help you?” Her stance was defensive, tone closely guarded. He found himself glancing around the alley way once more to make sure they were alone. Should any of his fan club catch wind of this, he would never get a moment’s peace with her. She had haunted his fantasies for nearly a year and a half now, and he had every intention of making those dreams a reality. His eyes raked along her form quickly, re-enforcing his previous thoughts as they met with soft, defined curves. The fuku had to have been designed by a mastermind, tiny blue skirt bunched just at the waist, concave stomach in smooth white, perfect breasts hidden behind a teasing red bow. That was his most favorite part of the whole outfit, the fact that it both drew attention to her assets, yet still managed to hide enough to be sexy.

And as strange as the thought was, he was absolutely sure he hadn’t noticed those curves when they first met, or else he would have liked her from the beginning. Of course, that was impossible, he must have just not noticed or something. It was a moot point, and he had other things to worry about, anyway. One was the fact that she was quite tense and ready to spring, the other would be their less than romantic surroundings.

Cornered on every side by garbage and filth, it took all his concentration to will her eyes to lock against his. The shared gaze was filled with guarded confusion, no small amount of fear and, he was sure, attraction. The thought caused a simmering feeling to race through him, his eyes intense and burning against hers. With a confident little smirk, he realized that even Sailor Moon would make eyes at his civilian form, and with his mirroring affections, it would be the last relationship he’d ever have to worry about. 

“Yes, actually.” He kept his tone cool and refined, his smile the dashing devil-may care piece that got him his last photo shoot. “My name is Chiba Mamoru,” he began smoothly, but was surprised at her sudden reaction. A flippant hand waved away the sense of intimacy he’d fought to create, and frustrated his perfectly set smile.

“I know who you are. What do you want?” she barked angrily, form tense and shifting as if he made her nervous. He stilled instantly, realizing she could run and easily evade the situation should he make even one faulty move. He had been through the chase many times, and had always won. This time, however, it began to dawn on the young man that he might actually have to put effort behind his advance –something he had never had to do before. A soft whistle broke past his lips in appreciation, noting both her words and demeanor.

“Well, I’m flattered, then.” He murmured softly, stuffing a hand in his pocket and slitting both eyes to look her over again. Though she professed to know him, he couldn’t see even a hint of a blush from where he stood. Not only that, but she seemed a little put off by him. Interesting. His eyes trailed over her form again, wondering if they had met somewhere along the way and he simply hadn’t recognized her in civilian clothes. But one glance at that figure told him definitely not. After all, it took more than just a few curves to catch his eye, and frankly Moon in any clothing would have done just that. His eyes flitted upward again, noting her hesitance and the near panicked look in her eyes before they slanted angrily again, her chin tilting upward in defiance.

“Did you want something? Because if not, I’ll…”

“No.” His self assured reply came as quickly as her anger, cutting her off mid sentence. “No, I did want to talk to you.” He sighed, shaking his head just enough to catch the sunlight and shatter it in the shadow of his hair. He was dragging the conversation out too long, setting her on edge. It definitely wasn’t what he’d been looking to do as he watched her carefully. She was nibbling at her lower lip nervously, and the sight nearly forced a lusty moan from his mouth before he could cut it off quickly. Ask her out first, then worry about getting a little closer. Determination fueled him then as he continued nonchalantly, forcing his eyes to lock against hers again “Actually, I was wondering if you might be willing to waste an evening on me.”

He had chosen his words carefully, allowing both for modesty and a proper amount of space should she back off. Had they met each other once in real life, there was no doubt in his mind that she would jump at the offer and swoon (in a pleasing manner) right into his arms. He was, after all, the biggest catch in all of Tokyo, one that could easily vie for her affections. And should she refuse, well, he knew she had a thing for Tuxedo Kamen as well, so it would all be the same in the end anyway. She was shaking her head softly, as if trying to disperse a cloud in her thoughts before looking back at him with an adorably furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry, would you say that again? I think I heard you wrong.” She murmured in disbelief. He had to force the wicked grin from his mouth, eyes softening predatorily as he took a few more steps toward her. Close enough to reach out and touch her now, he allowed the sweet feeling of victory to uncoil within him. Even she was surprised and flattered at his affections. One could almost hear him purr in contentment like a recently fed jaguar as her features softened from confusion and disbelief to something more intimate at his proximity. From here, he could smell the soft, feminine allure of her perfume, and felt a hungry rumble beginning low in his gut.

“I understand things might be difficult, given your occupation, but I think you’ll find I’m flexible.” Once again, his words were carefully chosen, knowing that such a relationship would involve no small amount of difficulty should she choose to accept. Her cheeks flushed prettily in the afternoon sunlight as he watched her piece together the conversation in her mind slowly. “How about dinner at my apartment? It’s safe, inconspicuous…”

“You’re asking me out?” She sputtered confusedly, eyes impossibly wide and body tense. “But I’m Sailor Moon!” she all but screamed, as if that alone would be the obvious breaking factor. His grin became lazy, eyes trailing down from hers in sweet appreciation of her long, curvy form. It was the longest he’d ever stood close to her for, and it did things to his insides any fully clothed woman shouldn’t be allowed to do. Her flushing cheeks darkened at his wandering eyes, again causing the simmering feeling of contentment in his lower abdomen. The beautiful warrior was obviously heating up, and he had every intention of keeping her that way.

“Trust me,” he all but purred at her, “I noticed.”

He watched as her eyes became impossibly wide, a shiver breaking across her skin. She had that look of a woman who knew she’d been caught, and knew full well what came next. He had to squash the sense of victory, knowing the blond put up the best fight when cornered. Yet her jaw unhinged the slightest bit, eyes glazed in what he could only assume as passion, and her body tensed beautifully. He didn’t even have to take the extra step to close the distance between them, any moment now the girl would simply launch herself into his arms and finish the conversation with a kiss she was obviously dying for.

But a moment later sent that thought crashing to pieces as her mouth closed, eyes clouded in thought. He was still confident, though, having known she would be a challenge. No doubt she was wondering what would happen between them after the dinner, whereas Mamoru held no doubts. It was all in love, though, not lust. After all, he’d known the girl for a year and a half, and his affections certainly weren’t just for her body. There were other things about her that he admired quite deeply, he reminded himself, and she would simply have to recognize that his intentions (though not entirely pure) were from the heart she’d helped him discover.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, straightening her position and returning to her earlier demeanor. The triumphant grin slid from his face at her words, body suddenly tense as he realized exactly what was going to happen. “I cannot accept your offer. I have no time for such things. Excuse me.”

A moment later, she was leaping up toward the roofs, and leaving a very shocked and outraged young man behind her. She had refused? Why?! He had the looks, the money, the brains; he could easily get any girl he wanted –so why had she so blatantly declined? She…maybe wasn’t herself today? For a split second, she had seemed so human, so normal… and she had looked at him in the most intriguing way with those silvery blue eyes. He had almost called an early victory at the soft look in them, had been seconds from reaching out to take her into his arms and steal the first kiss….

His mouth tightened into a thin line at the memory of her last little sad look in his direction. It had leaked out from behind the aloof air she’d tried to throw him. He had caught the inner struggle going through those silvery blue eyes, had watched as she warred within herself…it had to be something else. In the end, she had lost to some previous variable he would never know. Whatever it was obviously hurt her, made her more distant, more angry. Yes, something was definitely wrong. Her actions had been exactly opposite of what he would have assumed given her personality…

Concern for the young super hero fueled with desire sent him bolting after her, this time in uniform. She had already made it a few blocks by the time he finally caught sight of her, it would take a few more before he was close enough to slip around her and hide behind a service door a few buildings ahead. His movements could have been calculated, for moments later she landed calmly on this last roof, form perfectly outlined by the red blaze of a dying summer day. Golden curls not unlike a war banner flew back from her body in the salty ocean breeze that whistled past her.

Kamen watched mutely for a moment of shear male appreciation as the long, curvy lines of her body were clearly outlined in hues that seemed too harsh and masculine for one so tiny. It was in this moment that he witnessed something that even he, whom had been with her from the very start, had never expected. One long, white gloved hand rose to her face, glistening like diamonds in the course of tears wiped from her perfect eyes. It was something that, given recent context, should not be happening. After all, Sailor Moon was a girl, just like any other girl (except with powers and responsibility) and therefore should have been overjoyed at the recent declaration of love from one of the most eligible bachelors in all of Japan.

Instead, she cried softly to the oncoming night, pulling those long, lightly muscled arms around her shivering form despite the heat that permeated both skin and bone. It called to him, begged him for some form of comfort. Yet, once again, the context showed all to the contrary. Instead, he stepped a few feet closer to her, eyes trained easily to her golden hair, wishing she would turn and face him. She either could not hear the silent pleas, or pointedly refused and ignored them. It was enough that even he, Tuxedo Kamen, felt the sting within his chest as her head lowered in abject sorrow.

He had never known Sailor Moon on a personal level of any kind. Of course, there were all outward signs which any fool could follow, that she was imperfect and childish, that her sweetness and compassion quickly outweighed any sense of personal danger or logic. But none of this information had ever reached a deep, abiding level. It was for this reason he felt the need for caution, masking his true identity even further within the shrouds of his cloak. He had only known her on the surface, as a warrior. Hence, he had hoped to reach the more profound, inner aspect of the woman that lay beneath all the bravado, the speeches, and the very short skirt. He had hoped more than anything that she would accept him in his human form such that the trust could be gained with time. Certainly he had never expected her outright refusal, given his alter-ego’s pristine reputation. Given how he was viewed by the other Senshi, it had seemed like the perfect plan to win her affections. His mouth tightened into a firm line at his final step.

“Moon?” His smooth voice all but rippled through the oncoming air as she stilled. The nearly invisible shaking of her shoulders eased, giving them a very downcast slant as she turned slowly to face him. The crystalline tears still falling from her eyes captured and refracted the fading light with an intensity that easily could have blinded him had he been at all a weaker man. Despite the raging attraction he felt at her proximity, he strengthened his resolve and stepped forward a little more until her cute little face was forced to look up at him. “What’s wrong? He didn’t…say anything, did he?”

The words where weighted correctly, though he knew the answer, such that the perfectly formed Amazon before him would never have guessed it was him. She shook her head silently, turning her face toward the last moments of an agonized sunset blazing across the multifaceted waters. Her eyes held that same intensity; that strange feeling of a dying glory mirrored before them. The thought caused his chest to tighten unbearably as yet another salty track burned itself to her softly illuminated cheek.

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised.” He stated softly, careful to reel in the unmistakable urge to gather her up and soak the strange grief from her usually happy persona. “I would have thought an attractive girl your age would have leapt at the chance to date the mysterious Chiba Mamoru.” 

Devastation distorted the angelic lines of her face as a feeble, agonized laugh scratched hard nails against the tender moment. Such a broken laugh he considered a sacrilege on the usually upturned little mouth. One hand traveled up to cup her forehead as she bent once more in despair, heavy sobs beating against the smooth line of her shoulders. He could no longer restrain himself as tuxedo clad arms bunched around her shivering form and hauled her tight against his chest. Her hair, whipped by the wind, returned the embrace that she did not. And though she seemed grateful for his concern and time, her eyes did not lift to meet his, her arms were crossed resolutely around herself, and the sobs ripped at her small form with an intensity that both shocked and frightened the young college man. 

“I’m so sorry, Tuxedo Kamen-sama,” she choked after regaining herself and quickly wound her way free of him. Even her hair seemed to retract as the breeze shifted direction in the early twilight. He couldn’t help but feel…colder now that the bundle of sunshine gold was no longer held close against him. In the quickly darkening night, he could see that the curve of her shoulders was still alarmingly unsteady and that she seemed much more pale than usual. The rising moon was but a small sliver in the velvety blue-violet sky, hardly showing a wink of it’s naturally silver light as they stood quietly, regarding each other through separate masks.

“What happened, Sailor Moon? Why are you so…different after meeting with him? Did he hurt you? Did he…touch you?” Behind the impenetrable white domino mask, he truly felt concern, wondering if he had said something offensive (as was his nature) and not known it. But, retracing the short conversation in his mind, he reassured himself that, in fact, there had not been one word she could have taken wrongly. He had simply asked for an evening alone with her. So why…why was she crying so brokenly now? Why did her usually bright eyes seem so shadowed in pain and loneliness? Why did she not even care to be comforted by her much adored hero?

“No…no of course not…” she whispered between gasps of cool night air. Her chest was heaving with the effort it took to control the earth shattering sobs and she trembled helplessly before the shiver crawling along her spine. Obviously, he had not been the only one to register the change in temperature. Immediately, the cloak was swung from his back to envelope the young hero. She did not even bother to raise a hand to hold it in place against the oncoming wind.

“Am I to gather, then, that your affections are being saved for another?” he paused for a moment, a sly grin lightening the mood. “Me, perhaps?” Despite his obvious attempt to draw her attention from whatever it was that bothered her, she did not to rise to the occasion. Instead a bitter, self mocking laugh fell from her sweet mouth to shatter the light mood like fine glass. The shards left behind scraped and cut against his conscience as she curled herself even tighter beneath the thick fabric.

“Please, Tuxedo Kamen-sama. Like I could ever be more than just a charge to you.” She paused to sniffle as the weight of her silent accusation found place among the earlier wounds. “The only reason you even save me is because I’m too stupid and slow to save myself anyway.” Had she left him enough room to object, it wouldn’t have mattered. Processing the information even at his speed could never have produced a logical answer in the short span of her weak coughing and shivering. 

“The truth is,” she continued, unperturbed by his shocked silence as her gaze focused on the red tips of her boots poking out beneath black velvet. “I-I do…” the breath left her lungs before she could finish the statement. Undeterred, though, she gasped in another as a strange sense of strength came to her weakening form. “I do love him. So much that…so much it hurts. But,” she paused again to allow for a sudden hiccup to betray the faulty strength that had moments before possessed her shivering body. “But he…” another shiver broke the sentence in pieces as her eyes once more rose to meet the city skyline behind him. “…couldn’t love me.”

The weighted moment forced all earlier thoughts from Tuxedo Kamen’s mind as her soft words threaded out like fingers into the quickly dimming night. But it was impossible for her statement to be true. He was himself the same Chiba Mamoru who had just barely asked the young Senshi out, and had waited with baited breath to hear her heart-wrenching refusal. Once again, it was completely impossible for the reality of her words to shed any light on the current situation, and silently forbade his superior intellect the ability to find even one logical scrap behind her accusation.  
But then, it hit him. He could never love her, the girl behind the Senshi. The reasoning behind her subtle words struck a very sensitive cord in his chest as he realized that behind the self-assured warrior before him lay a very human, very young girl –who no doubt, had taken one look at what others had deemed ‘perfection’ and ran in the opposite direction in fear. It was such a natural reaction that the young man actually felt his jaw unhinge a little in utter disbelief. He had never assumed that behind the short skirt and cute button nose was an insecure, fearful girl.

“You don’t know that.” He murmured gently, an alien gentleness coaxing his voice in a way he’d never heard it before. “If you love him, you should have given him the benefit of the doubt. Given time, he would have accepted you no matter who you are.” A betraying smile crept across his face as he gazed at her. “You’re too amazing not to.”

Neither his words nor his eyes could comfort her, though. Too far gone in the shadow of despair, she hunched over in the cloak, turning away from her dark savior in a move that deftly blocked him and his comfort out of her consciousness. Her stubborn refusal and quick reaction ripped the strange feeling of humanity from his chest and replaced it with the ice he had felt there his whole life. It was an unpleasant emotion, and one he had been sure would never have been caused by her. After all, it was her sunny disposition and crazy antics that had first caught his attentions at their fated meeting. Now, it seemed, her role had changed her completely beneath the refining pressure of responsibility and self-control.

“You don’t seem to understand,” Her voice barely registered above the sudden gust of wind that ripped the cloak from her shoulders and lost it to the darkness around them. She had taken the short moment to calm her breathing, and now spoke dispassionately to the air around them, her statements born on a pain far deeper than he could understand. “I have already spoken to Mamoru-san. He told me himself, in no uncertain terms, that he could never love me. Just some shadow of myself that happens to have a glamour. Some sick sliver of myself that has now taken everything from me that I ever cared about. And in some ridiculous show of irony, she’s the only part of me that will ever be worthy of praise.

“My parents are disgusted with me because they think I’m some brain-dead, irresponsible teenager that sneaks out in the middle of the night for no reason. My teachers all think that I’m some retarded freak that can’t seem to do her homework or even score reasonably on a test. All of my friends that I had before have been taken from me because I’m terrified they’ll get hurt –and all of the new friends that I have now are only because they share in the responsibility. And now Mamoru-san…” she choked over the fast words spilling from her soul like a bleeding wound begging to rid itself of rotten puss, yet stumbling because there was so much left unsaid. “Even he likes her…not me. Never me.”

He had remained silent during the painfully accusing tirade she offered brokenly to the night. In a strange sense, he felt as if he had intruded on her innermost thoughts. They were the demons even she had not bothered to face before his proposal had ripped open the door. His near silent curse at his own stupidity was whispered to the vacant, uncaring starlight above them. The steady, beating rhythm of the salty waves did nothing to calm the burning self-doubt and idiocy that threatened to bury him alive. One would think that he, of all people, would have been more sensitive to the fact that his one true love had another side to her. All earlier comments were completely erased beneath the cold, uncaring hand he’d dealt her unknowingly.

“Sailor Moon,” he called a moment later over the clash of his shoes against cement. She turned her head just enough to peer over one perfectly curved shoulder. The wind blew a strand of that glorious hair across her face, lodging against the tears the wind had not yet whipped from her cheeks. He stepped closer, till they’re bodies were nearly touching and the cool summer night air barely whistled between them. “I would accept you.” His voice was raw and desperate, his fingers tugging the stray hair from her face. “I would accept you!” the hand that had wiped away her tears deftly gripped the perfect curve of her neck and skull such that she had no choice but to look up at him through unnaturally thick lashes. His breathing was deep and even despite the rage glowing behind the iridescent white mask; exactly opposite to hers which mingled against his mouth in short, almost terrified gasps.

“I didn’t fall for you simply because you wore a mini skirt, or danced around giving speeches to half crazed monsters from hell. And even though your right hook is pretty amazing for a girl, I’m definitely not in love with you for it.” The other hand reached upward to knock the top hat from his head and sent the white domino mask fluttering into the depths of night. “I fell in love with your smile.” 

Only silence met him as he stared down at her through shaded eyes. It took a bare moment before recognition slithered across her features and she ripped herself away from him. Her reaction, though tightening the aching throb in his chest, had been exactly as he would have imagined it only a moment before. Horrified at her unwitting confession mere minutes before the mask finally fell from his heavy blue eyes, the young woman could barely remain standing as she skittered across the rooftop on unsteady legs. He grimly let her go for a moment, allowing the precious space she needed in the wake of such a closely guarded secret, then followed at an even pace. Finally, her legs could hold out no more as she crashed to her knees in shock. The curly, golden curtain of her hair quickly sheltered her small form to his view. Instead of pressing the matter, as he so dearly wanted to do, he simply stood there for a moment, regarding her shaking body in the shadows.

“I…love,” he began again, afraid his earlier confession hadn’t been enough to prove his intentions to her, “that you sacrifice your safety to keep the other Senshi from getting hurt. I love that you put your whole heart and soul into something you obviously hate just to keep your friends safe. And I…” he paused, a shudder of pleasure rippling through him at the thought, “I love that you tremble in my arms. God, I love when you do that…”

His words seemed to fall on deaf ears as the wind continued to whistle cheerfully past them. He watched, mesmerized as her soft curls unwound in midair, how her Senshi uniform swished magically across creamy thighs and the scent of her girlish vanilla-laced perfume mingled with ocean and night musk. Though her shoulders were still unsteady, and though she shivered helplessly against the wind, she did not move to look at him. Pristine white gloves clutched at her arms till he could see the visible discoloration in the half light surrounding them, and her fingers seemed taut with the pressure being exerted.

He stood helplessly by, missing the usually comforting weight of his cloak hanging from his shoulders. By now, it had probably carried far enough away to dissipate into whatever it was that made it. His thoughts would not follow that particular path, though; he was much too concerned at her silence. She had already refused him once today, and to hear her even attempt to do so again would put a rather serious damper on his spirits. Not that it would deter him, of course, she’d already admitted to returning said feelings. It meant that in all probability she would soon succumb to them, as he had, and the beautiful little warrior would finally –finally be his.

The gloves on his hands loosened as he came forward, his eyes trained on the waterfall of shimmering golden locks currently blocking his view from her face. He had wanted for so long just to touch the teasingly fine tresses, out of curiosity alone for the texture. The few times he’d been lucky enough to feel it touch his face had been split second rescues, where safety had been paramount, and attraction an afterthought. But now, when she was kneeling before him, very much in need of comfort, he could indulge a little in the fantasy. Her shoulder was still shaking as his fingers brushed the exquisite fabric of her fuku, lifting a single golden tress long enough to feel it curl around his hand.

Her arms lashed out, slapping his touch away as she stumbled to her feet, eyes wide and angry. He had seen the look many times, as she had delivered an enraged speech or attack, and could easily see the mask of anger she hid behind. Her eyes flashed dangerous sapphire, lips in an adorably thin line and face flush with wrath. This…was not at all what he’d been expecting…

“You showed me this because…what, you love me? You trust me?” He nodded the affirmative, watching her curiously as she came forward on sure feet. The clack of her legendary red boots reverberated in the silence like a death chant as she closed the distance between them. “Maybe you should have paid more attention to that right hook!”

A moment later, all he felt was the blinding pain of his nose being smashed beneath her fist before his head slammed into the pavement. Stunned, angry curses spewed from his normally calm mouth. He clutched at his gushing face in shock as the darkness closed around him.  
…………………………………………………..


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The frustrated slap of heavy textbooks echoed in the vapid room. One could almost hear the exasperated noise tumble along the bare walls of the hallway and nestle deeply in the back rooms as a testament to the pensive anger radiating from the front room. The usually clean space was spattered here and there with misplaced objects, conspicuous clues to the frustration he’d felt recently. Littered across the living room table haphazardly were books of every kind, spilling over the edge and onto the plain beige carpeting below like fallen toy soldiers.

Midnight black locks hung low as the soft sigh broke through the enclosing hands to follow the path of his earlier frustration. Try as he might, none of these subjects held any interest to him. Every time he even bothered to think about his school work, the issue would somehow weasel it’s way into his brain and stick there. Tired hands massaged his wearied face as he forced himself to breathe slowly. It had been a few days since the night on the rooftops, and he wasn’t entirely sure when things had gotten so far out of control.

Gentle fingertips brushed along his still-bruising nose bridge, and he wondered once again if his powers had saved him from instant death that night. Had any of the shards been jettisoned into his brain at that velocity, the gray matter would have resembled something close to Swiss cheese. The force of her punch had completely shattered both bone and cartilage, and had cost one hell of an emergency room visit to fix. Though his powers as Tuxedo Kamen did help the healing process, it would not set bone or reconstruct an entire nose bridge, as only a plastic surgeon could. It was thanks to the psychometry alone that he didn’t have some ridiculous plastic brace stuck to him still. If it hadn’t been so blindingly painful, he would have been strangely proud of her for having the guts to do it.

Now the only problem was to figure out what exactly he’d done to incite the violent reaction. She had admitted she loved him, and that was enough for him. He had asked her out, not been too pushy, not sounded arrogant, had waited patiently for the reply. She had refused –and broke his nose. Why? 

This new information added a whole new dimension to her personality that he’d never considered before. He’d categorized her as one of those that destiny had just kind of jack-knifed into the position; she always seemed much too sweet and sincere to be in the super-hero business. It was part of her charm, really, because she had to overcome so much of her nature to fight at all. He respected that very deeply, knowing that if he were to attempt such a feat, he’d fail miserably. Most of that came from just being himself for way too long without caring what anyone else thought. It brought a strange sense of satisfaction, knowing he could act as he pleased without feeling guilt or remorse. On more than one occasion, he’d had to deal with the consequences, however little they meant to him on a personal level… But he was getting off subject here.

The point, he concluded, was that Sailor Moon seemed to have a whole other part to her personality –one he’d never even considered, let alone seen evidence of. Despite any earlier calculations, it would seem that this other facet held the tiniest bit of ill-will towards his civilian identity. That meant they had to have met each other previously; and knowing how he was, he’d probably been his usual charming self. 

A grimace crinkled against his face at the thought, wondering if it were even possible to see her and not be attracted. Well, that is if they hadn’t met until after he’d known Moon herself, in which case it was a definite possibility. Anything within a four or five month period of meeting her seemed too lame to bother with, and anything after wasn’t even an attraction. The dark expression vaulted in panic as he thought, steps quickening in the beige carpet. If that were the case, he was going to have to do something drastic to make up the difference. 

She did happen to be a superhero; and with the title an overwhelming sense of justice. If he had done something incredibly stupid, it would mean a lot of sucking up time. Sailor Moon was always declaring war on a youma for doing something unforgivable, how much worse would it be for a guy who had turned her down flat without even glancing up from a book? As tempting as the information was; it did not explain how the young girl had gone from young, clueless-ly cute little temptress to knocking him flat on his back. In the normal world, she would have simply turned him down and given ample explanation when pressed. The pain emanating from his nose was a painful reminder that that was not the way things had happened a few nights prior. It just didn’t make any sense. Girls did not go homicidal over a date!

Well, unless she was… A horrified look crept over his features as he thought of it; because God could not be that cruel. 

Sailor Moon…he swallowed thickly, wishing he didn’t have to finish the thought… had PMS!

If she was like that every month…. Mamoru drew in a ragged breath, a disturbingly new twitching sensation lighting in his left eye as he thought. The horror he could face at the hand of a tortured Senshi sent a chill running down his spine and sweat to break across his forehead. She’d put him in the emergency room for asking her out; what the hell would she do if he actually said something mean to her? 

His mouth tightened in determination, now was not the time for demoralization. He’d known coming into this that sacrifices needed to be made. Future health could be one of them. His hopes were up, though; so long as he kept his eye on her fists and her hands full of chocolate, it shouldn’t be an issue. Because as far as he knew, chocolate was the one sure-fire way to a woman’s heart; and no true woman would injure herself or others when in the presence of the ‘ultimate offering’.

Right?

Though part of his realization gave him a sense of pride for figuring it out, the other was shuddering. Most girls were scary around that time, but a superhero had to be something out of a slasher flick. He still wanted her, he wasn’t so shallow that a little week of hell every once in a while would change his mind. Besides, he knew tons of guys who were in long term relationships without too many problems… of course none of them were seeing a girl who could knock down a building with their backsides either.

“That’s just wrong.” He muttered quietly, standing to pace around the apartment. 

The point was, because he’d been sidetracked again, that whether or not this whole problem resulted from hormonal issues was completely irrelevant. She had acted outside the boundary he’d previously seen and set as her undeniable character. And he’d known her for a year and a half, as he’d noted before, and therefore should be a good judge on where that line was. After all, she’d never hauled off and knocked a Youma silly just because it happened to be bad timing for her. She’d always been the same kind of person no matter when things got ugly.  
What had been wrong with her? The tightness around his mouth loosened as he thought it over again. She’d been shivering, crying as if her heart were broken. The soft, alien sensation sizzled in his chest a small moment, his hand rising to rub gently over his heart. It had to be love, because any other girl could cry and not get a single reaction from him. Any other girl could turn him down, beat him senseless, or call him a man-whore however they pleased; but to see those tears on her face actually made him feel…guilty. 

It was a new sensation. He’d never had any sort of moral code taught to him as a child; well, none that he could remember anyway. This sense of having done something horribly wrong was not normal. Seeing her cry should not affect him as deeply as it did, and he had never wanted anyone as much as her…  
For a boy who had never known even a speck of love in his life, it was enough concrete proof to win a court case. 

A wicked grin split his face in thought. That wasn’t even counting the physical side effects.  
………………………..

Pale, trembling fingers clenched in fury. The silent tapping of water filled the silence with rhythmic indifference. Soft tissues bunched together beneath stern, unimpassioned hands. An angry growl broke the steady strain, filled the tense quiet with every emotion felt.

Rage, hatred, pain.

The thin door was thrown back beneath the torrent of feelings burning through her. How dare he? How dare he speak to her like that? Jerk! The bitter hatred uncoiled unpleasantly in her still queasy stomach, but it was a childish rebellion against the soft drops of sorrow leaking from her face into the carpet. She blinked back the heavy rainfall from her eyes, forced her feet to move uneasily along the hallway to her bedroom. Her soft footsteps did little to sooth the pain, the anger that flooded every nerve; made her wish she was steady enough to stomp her way from the bathroom.

Three days since that night, and Usagi still couldn’t believe what had happened. Chiba Mamoru had asked her out! No, she shook her head in bitter confusion, had asked out Sailor Moon! What was the difference between them, though? The warrior was a part of Usagi, wasn’t she? They both klutz out, cried like babies, acted like kids, screamed in terror, and froze when faced with any deadly object hurling their direction. And here was the kicker, she guffawed haughtily, they both had his detested hairstyle! How could someone miss something so painfully obvious!? But no, he wouldn’t have even bothered to glance in the direction of her hair; and if he had, he wouldn’t have made any connection to the whiny, scrawny school girl from Crown. When given her painful klutz attack from earlier that night, there was still no connection to Usagi even though it was his favorite thing to tease her about! Had he asked her how she felt? No. Had he cared she couldn’t even keep her legs under her? No.

Hell, had he even noticed she was sick?! No. Why? 

Because Chiba Mamoru, though irritatingly perfect in every other aspect, was so completely self centered he hadn’t bothered to take time between confessions to at least check and see if she was alright. All he’d done is slung his cape around her shoulders and pretended like that had somehow filled his gentleman quota for the evening! She rolled her eyes angrily at the thought, replaying over and over the whole conversation. Part of her wished she hadn’t given away so much information to him without realizing who he was. The other part of her wondered if he’d even listened enough to remember any of it.

Then, he’d talked to her as if she really had no other option than to go out with him. Heck, he’d probably already bought everything for that dinner he’d asked to cook for her, so sure he’d been of her answer. Well, she’d shown him! The jerk; he hadn’t even wondered why she didn’t say anything after the mask came off. She’d felt so betrayed, knowing she’d just admitted everything to his face –twice! And he just kept coming, just kept talking as if his feelings were the only ones that mattered! He hadn’t even bothered to make sense of what she’d been telling him! Everything he said was just another reminder that the only one he wanted was Moon, and that ‘given time’ he would accept Usagi. Well, of that she held no doubt. Given a time slot of two seconds, he would have thrown her away like so much trash. 

Well, she’d beaten him to the punch, so to speak. A lofty smile curled around her mouth as the last few moments of their conversation replayed in her mind. 

Hers and Mamoru’s relationship could be called anything except civil. They’d always gotten on each other’s nerves, always yelled like schoolyard children, and frankly, had always hated each other. Well, till she had to go and ruin everything by falling in love with the idiot. Why had she done that again? He was everything dark and brooding and bitter, and she was the exact opposite. And no, the term opposites attract meant nothing to her. It was almost as if she was drawn to him. It was almost as if she had no choice but to love him, even though really she hated him.

It was for that reason that she’d fought it so hard. She didn’t want to be involved with that jerk at all! Other than looks, he had nothing going for him that she would normally see as attractive. He was a know-it-all, snobby, upper-class playboy who had no respect for anything female. She did not have a bad boy complex. Her father had been perfectly clear that when she was old enough to date, (which according to him wouldn’t happen for another twenty years) she would choose the most gentlemanly, sweet man she was capable of finding. He would treat her like a queen, or her father would…do something rather unpleasant.

And let’s face it, Chiba Mamoru was less than gentlemanly. His mannerisms raved of high society, but his personality came straight from the gutter. And even though literally every girl that crossed his path seemed madly in love with him, Usagi had not just fallen into the trap because of the ‘in’ crowd. She’d fought every sensation tooth and nail, denied the existence of it, hidden it under her bed, in the back of her mind, kicked it, drowned it, stabbed it over with every horrible aspect of his character, and when that didn’t work, she cried.

That day had been awful too. She had finally given up trying to deny any feelings for him, but she had decided to wait it out. When she’d gotten out of detention, her first thought had been Crown, her sweet ‘older brother’ and the brooding enemy. What she’d found had been something else entirely. He’d sat there, staring dejectedly into his coffee mug with his unkempt hair hanging in front of his eyes. She had wanted very badly to say something snide, make him forget his ridiculous addiction. Instead, a very soft feeling was burned into her chest …because he’d looked so lonely….

“No…” she moaned, dragging the word out to cover at least six syllables as the covers where thrown over her head. Hot tears poured freely from her eyes as the same sensation sizzled in her heart. Even the thought of him looking so abandoned made her ache…made her want to hold him….

She sobbed helplessly into the pillow, cursing herself over and over again for being so weak, so pathetic. Usagi had never seen herself as strong, but this was just…too much. She had no reason to cry over a pig like him because she’d turned him down this time, and by every right. So why did it hurt like the dickens to think about him? Why did she find herself wondering if that same soft look of abandonment was on his face right now….

“Get out of my head….” She whimpered softly, wishing the cotton in her ears would shift even a few inches and block out her disturbing thoughts. Her tongue felt like socks, her blood sizzled with fever, and her stomach churned stubbornly, refusing to admit it was already empty from the previous three trips to the bathroom. She was sick and tired and couldn’t sleep and couldn’t stop thinking and her head hurt and she just wanted…

“Who are you talking to, dear?” The sound of footsteps accompanied the soft creaking of rusty hinges. The young girl stilled beneath the covers, hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes and turned away. It was bad enough to cry over something so ridiculous, but to have her mother catch her was just not right. -Especially since she couldn’t offer a valid excuse without getting in trouble.

“No one.” She answered quietly. Both arms wrapped around her stomach carefully as the covers were pulled away from her face. Soft violet-blue waves fell around her, companions to the gentle care-worn eyes that leaned down lovingly. Fingertips touched the puffy flesh at her cheeks, and pressed against her warm forehead coolly. Usagi sighed at the stern, bemused tilt to her mother’s mouth, knowing she’d been caught in the act.

“Are you alright? Headache again?” The blond nodded quietly, sniffling back the tears that threatened to rise again. “Did you eat something?” her mother pressed, fingers tugging through the mass of golden knots. When her daughter didn’t answer, a longsuffering sigh escaped her lungs as velvety eyebrows drew together. “Usa-chan…it’s dangerous. You need to eat something every few hours. The doc …”

“I know, mama.” Her tone was harsh, self-mocking as she cut into her mother’s patient words. “Trust me, I know.” Strong violet eyes bore directly into hers despite any earlier comments, a silent question in them. Usagi didn’t have to guess blindly at what she wanted to know. “I can’t keep anything down! I don’t see the point of eating if I’m just gunna throw it up!”

“Well, that’s no excuse to be irresponsible about your health, Usagi-chan. You know how fragile you can be.” Frustrated, the older woman lifted herself from the bed and stalked toward the open doorway, completely ignoring that angry glare piercing the back of her skull.

“I am not fragile!”

The pathetic outcry met with silence as the door closed softly once more. Frustrated, the blond slid back into the covers and pretended that whole conversation didn’t happen. She had more important things to worry about right now, anyway, and one of them was figuring out what she’d ever done to attract Mamoru’s attention as Sailor Moon. At first, she’d been shocked and confused when he came forward. It wasn’t like a regular civilian could have known she would be there or would have done anything so…arrogant. Then the mask had come off and explained everything.

Despite the anger at remembering his words then, she felt a wave of relief pass through her. She’d hesitated to change back because she knew the trip home would be awful, but really it had been a saving grace. If he’d watched her de-transform, well, Mamoru wouldn’t have bothered her again that was for sure, but even more disturbing was the fact that Tuxedo Kamen wouldn’t come to her rescue. Usagi was not so self possessed as her arch rival; she knew she needed him to be there in case things went wrong.

But maybe that was half her problem right there. What if, because she turned him down, he stopped coming?

What if she didn’t even want him there?

“Now, I want you to drink all of this, Usagi-chan. Sip slowly, of course, but…well, you know.” Both blue eyes shot to her mother’s form in the doorway, thoughts still confused and muddled. A small bowl was cupped between each motherly hand, steaming hot in the warm afternoon air. The young girl swallowed thickly, afraid of what it would do to her to drink whatever it was. Knowing her mother, it probably tasted like a cross breed of dog mixed with rat poison…as did all of Ikuko’s home remedies. A dark look passed over her young face at the thought, sure her mother did those things just to encourage good attendance records.

To her ultimate relief, the broth smelled like chicken and warmed her sore throat on the way down. It was hard to even sip the offering, knowing she’d probably be bending over the toilet in about five minutes, but she tried her best. As she did so, her mother wandered around the room, picking up stray clothing and setting them in the laundry basket as she went.

“Naru-chan stopped by this morning on her way to the market.” Her soft voice filtered through the thickness in Usagi’s ears, the tone she always used when filling someone in on a bit of news she’d heard somewhere. A tiny smile broke the edges of her frown, familiarity washing over her. “I would have let her come in except it was around ten and you still weren’t awake. Rei-chan and Ami-chan came by about an hour ago, too, but you were in the bathroom…” 

The last comment was barely heard as she zoned out. The comforting warmth and weight in her hands was almost hypnotizing, drawing her down into the same pool of thought she’d been drowning in earlier. The girls had come by. She hadn’t shown at their precious meeting because of him, and now they probably wanted to pump her for information. Rei had called on the communicator the next morning, having seen it on the news, and her tone had been anything but comforting. The priestess had all but yelled at her for going into battle without backup, let alone sick and weak. Well, it wasn’t like Usagi expected her friend to have any kind words for her to begin with, but given the circumstances it was a little bit harder to swallow her criticism.  
Ami had actually come by the next day to check her over for injuries. Usagi hadn’t had the heart to tell her what all had happened, only that she’d jumped in without thinking and Tuxedo Kamen had come to the rescue. Even the genius had looked at her disapprovingly. Even sweet, wonderful Ami had been disappointed in her actions, no matter how brave or well meant they had been. 

It was like they both looked down on her, like she couldn’t handle anything on her own. But she’d been the first Senshi, had fought without anyone there except Kamen for months before Ami transferred in. Didn’t that experience mean anything to the girls? Why did they constantly act like she never did anything right? Was she really so pathetic? Would it really be so awful if she were fighting alone –without even his help?

Could she ever be that strong?

“Mama!” the shrill voice of her younger brother shattered her thoughts, sending pins and needles dancing into her skull. She doubled up, clutching painfully at her head and trying to force breath into her lungs. The pain was horrible, compounded by his fast-pounding footsteps on the stairs. 

“Shingo, you’re sister is sick! Keep it down!” her mother’s hoarse whisper meant nothing against the frantic breathing of the overly excited twelve-year-old. Usagi groaned into her pillow, wishing he would at least turn away from her room before the next outburst. Unfortunately, today was just not her lucky day.

“But the Senshi are on TV! Monsters attacked the downtown market and they’re throwin’ fireballs and stuff! Come see!”

The second their footsteps pounded down the stairs, a shuddering sob broke free from the huddled figure on the bed. The girls hadn’t even called her. Her communicator lay silent on the bedside table, conspicuously still in the afternoon sunlight. Her heart plummeted, knowing how angry they’d been with her for doing the exact same thing. So what was the difference?

What was the difference between her and them? What was the difference between her and Moon? Everyone saw her as weak, pathetic. Mamoru would do anything for Moon, but for Usagi? He couldn’t even stand to be around her without saying something horrible. And she would just take it, because she was weak. She would just take it.   
Foggy blue eyes hardened dangerously toward the empty wall as she thought. 

Yeah, she’d take it.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, just wanted to pop in and make a few notes here. The premise of this story is all based on background information from the series, ie, if the characters had actually grown up in the real world with the backstories described in the show. I tried to keep them as real to life as possible, vs having them cannon, so if you're wondering why they're a bit OOC, there ya go. It's also more centered around the Greek myth of Selene and Endymion, so Sil Mil scenes should be read in that context.  
> Don't forget to review, I love hearing from ya!  
> E

Chapter Four

The air was crisp and cool, a sudden compliment to the oppressive heat wave that had choked the city streets for months. The early morning traffic bustled hastily along; people ambled happily down the sidewalks and paths in response to the sweet release. Trees swayed headily against the gentle nymph-like wind and tiny dewdrops shattered the early morning sunrise to light the walkways in a splattering of confused color. Rustling leaves broke the still morning like a whispering woodwind symphony accented by trilling birdsong from the dancing treetops. The slow-rising sun gave stark contrast against the rigid, unforgiving buildings that broke the Tokyo skyline like jagged teeth. 

But all of this went unnoticed to him. His thoughts were elsewhere, per norm, and had been stuck there for weeks now. Since that night, there had been no other attacks on the city’s inhabitants, and nothing had been heard from the elusive Heroes that watched from above. The day might as well have been somber and cloudy, for all he cared. Such a silence could have been considered normal, unless one was waiting to get their hands on a certain blond hero for some answers.

It was all he wanted at this point. The questions had been building in the back of his mind long enough to drive any normal man insane, and he was not willing to give up on them. He found himself anxious for the next attack, waiting on pins and needles for the day to arrive when he could hear the sweet scream of utter terror breaking the silence; even though it meant another spike in the growing death toll. The inactivity was making him lose his mind, but it was considered a small sacrifice for the ultimate goal. Glowering cobalt eyes narrowed at the thought. Patience was not a virtue he had given much credit to in the past, however now there was some small inkling of regret for that decision. But it didn’t matter how long it took, he was willing to wait. Knowing his luck, it would take another couple of weeks before the Dark Kingdom would strike again.

He paused mid-stride, feeling himself tense on instinct as it came into view. Even the sight was enough to cause a nervous jolt to shiver along his skin and sheen of sweat to break across his forehead. The most dreaded area in the world at exactly 7:53 am, which his schedule strangely forced him to be in at precisely that time every morning, was suddenly before him in all it’s horrifying glory. He muttered something dark beneath his breath, quickly positioning himself in the path of least probability. 

Today could be the break in the sudden absence, and he had no intention of being mowed down simply because he was too distracted to notice a 90 some-odd pound girl rocketing through the streets at mach four and screeching like banshee. Furtively, his head snuck around the corner just long enough to analyze his chances of making it to school unscathed. A quick scan of the area proved his efforts futile as no one was around other than him. That was…weird. 

For the past couple of days, Odango hadn’t been at ‘the corner’, and that left him wondering if she was actually getting up on time. He couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped at the thought. Yeah, like that would ever happen. The day that whiny little brat made it to school on time; he’d die of shock, old age, or both.

He shook his head amusedly and slipped around the corner to continue his walk. It was almost like she timed everything, was late on purpose just to run into him. What a ridiculous, typical thing for a young girl to do. It certainly wasn’t like she was the only one to do it, either. Seemed every time he turned around some middle-schooler was bumping into him or tripping up against him. Blue eyes rolled heavenward at the thought. If he had a nickel for every ridiculous little kid that had a crush on him, he’d probably have his retirement taken care of. Odango was now just one of the masses, just like every other girl. 

It was sad. In the beginning, she’d been such a good distraction. She was too short to be taken seriously, too young to be attractive, and too fiery to give up when put down. It was a fun little game of childish name-calling, and the perfect stress relief from all of those anatomy courses he’d taken. Any time he’d been faced with a test, he’d calmly walked into the arcade for a little relief in the form of purely plutonic bickering. Maybe it was some strange kickback to the childhood he’d never had, but damn it, it was fun!

Or had been. In retrospect (and this was only after Motoki had non-too-gently pointed out the fact over coffee the other day) Odango had not been herself for a while now. Where she’d always been able to shoot absolute hell his way when he first met her, it made her all the more disturbing when compared to the girl he’d seen mere days earlier. 

He’d been on his way home from the dry-cleaners, not expecting anything because it was late afternoon and everything was quiet as usual. But her tiny form had come barreling around the corner anyway, and smashed into him with all the force of a train wreck. The impact sent his clean clothes into the gutter and absolutely coated him in fine gold hair that clung to him like sticky fingers. That part, not counting the timing, had been normal; but the look in her eyes, the way she threw herself away from him and scurried off, was not. She hadn’t even yelled at him for being in her way, which might have somehow helped the situation return to normal between them. Maybe he was just going crazy, but something about the instance bothered him, and he’d spent more than a few moments brushing the feeling away before he could take a closer look. 

She had been a fun kid to talk to.

Well, she was a distraction at least from the other issues in his life –or had been. The thought sent a strange feeling through him… past tense. He rolled his eyes, wasting no time in pushing that feeling away just as he had all the others. Besides, his eyes narrowed in thought, he had other things to worry about anyway, and thinking about that juvenile brat… Odango was not on debate here, the real problem was…

“Chiba-san! Oi!” Stormy blue eyes settled across the newcomer in cool frustration, and he was suddenly considering his escape options while she made her way across the grounds. One glace proved the college campus already surrounded him on every side, and that his feet had carried him nearly to the science building on their own. He mentally shook himself, hoping his little visitor hadn’t noticed how out of it he’d been. It wouldn’t do to let her, of all people, see him preoccupied. He’d never hear the end of it. Quickly stifling the urge to roll his eyes, he replaced it instead with a welcoming smile.

“Matsumori-san.” He nodded respectfully, already watching the short girl for any furtive movements. She stood at perfect attention to him, short form clad in the university regulation uniform in maroon and grey. As senior president of the journalism club, the student before him always had some excuse to come talk to him, which in turn helped her secondary position as acting president of his fan club. Words could not express how much joy that particular bit of knowledge had brought him. When they’d first met, he’d just barely come to this school under pre-med, and she’d been doing a column on most promising new-comers. Though nothing had happened right at first (she was too short, anyway) over the ensuing months she’d proven to be quite tenacious when it came to the things she wanted. He would have had a great deal of respect for that, if that something weren’t him.

The farthest it had ever gone between them was a round of flirting over an interview for the biweekly newsletter that circulated the campus about him. He’d been acting much too strangely for a long time before that and the not-so-innocent little college girls had begun to wonder if he was alright. Questions had arisen about certain aspects of his personal life that he’d been forced to confront. It was bad enough having every girl on campus hunt him like a prize deer, but having a few of the guys encouraged by rumors really didn’t help anything. Given his usual behavior around the opposite sex, the only reason the questions had been brought up where on allegations that he hadn’t seemed too interested. Of course, to any ridiculous busy-body out there, it must mean he was either sick or gay. People assumed things –asinine as that was- and he had no intention of letting it slide by.

Just to drive the point home, he’d complied with her request for a personal interview in which he’d simply credited a change in major and the need to focus on his work for a while. Given the large switch from pre-med to business management, it had a bit of truth behind it, even if it were only partial. He hadn’t ever been one to fill up his time with general classes, and had had to focus almost entirely on management courses to make up the difference since. The reason for the change? Well, medicine was interesting enough, but he was an admittedly selfish man, and a few pointers from a local big business owner had given him the direction needed to truly utilize his skills.

Of course, none of it was the real reason he’d been turning down women left and right beginning almost a month earlier. Something had changed in him, something that he couldn’t quite put a finger on until that very interview. Matsumori-san had been utterly wicked after the gay question had been put aside, but her cute little jokes and sultry eyes had no effect on him like they would have. His tastes had changed, become completely exclusive to one single woman. As the conversation had progressed, he’d focused more and more on his thoughts of the beautiful Senshi, and had slowly realized that his feelings for her ran far deeper than he’d thought possible before that moment.

It was both exciting and depressing to admit he could not stand the idea of any other woman warming his bed if not Moon herself. Though it took a few more months to grip exactly what that meant for him, considering their rather distant relationship. After plotting and planning all of this time away, he had been absolutely certain of the course to take. It had involved a tiny bit of subterfuge on his part, in hopes of evading the other two Senshi more than anything else, but he’d had every intention of coming out with the truth in time.

One thought back to that night on the rooftops, however, smashed that little daydream to bits and pieces. She’d turned him down flat without even considering it. Of course, there was a reason for everything, and hers would be as good as any for breaking his heart and his nose in one fell swoop. They had spoken at least once as civilians, which meant she could be one of his classmates!

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he held the short brunette up to the legendary warrior and couldn’t help but wonder. They were both vertically challenged, but there was no way their body types were even close. The girl before him was border-line straight up and down, hardly any curve to her at all. Her hair was short, cut stylishly to reflect some terrible fashion magazine she’d probably subscribed to from the states. It didn’t even stand in the same world as the shimmering windswept cascade crowning Moon’s gorgeous little head and swirling down around her lower thighs. No, likelihood that they were one and the same was not terribly high. He focused his eyes on her, hoping she hadn’t noticed his mind wandering as she spoke.

“…rumor that you got in a fight with a Jr. High kid. Is it true she actually put you in the emergency room?” All earlier thoughts froze in the wake of her insinuation. Confident brown eyes clashed against shocked blue before his mouth curled into a cruel smile. So that was what she’d been curious about. He should have considered at least the possibility of the club wanting to know what happened to make his face to bruise so badly. Of course, even the idea of little Odango Atama causing such damage was really unheard of. Who in their right mind could even assume that scrawny little brat from the arcade could actually land a punch, let alone shatter his nose bridge?

“Excuse me?” He drawled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down on her short, stick figure form in contempt. Who would believe such a rumor, let alone have the gall to ask him about it? His mouth tightened angrily as he continued. “That is obvious hearsay, and I’m not even going to bother answering it. If you’ve got a problem with my broken nose, just come out and say it.”

“Well,” Matsumori grinned quietly and came forward a few steps till they were quite close and reached out a hand to finger his jacket. “Would you like to tell me the story? I promise to make it sound good in this month’s newsletter.” Her fingers slid around his lapel, lips pursed in sultry invitation as she tilted her head toward him. 

A crawling shudder of revulsion tickled his lower spine and he quickly brushed her hand away in hopes of banishing the strange sensation. He retreated back a few steps, demeanor cold and uncaring as he shifted the pack and narrowed both eyes at her dangerously. It wasn’t the first time she’d tried something like this, and he’d been perfectly clear on his part that there was nothing between them. Well, looks like he was just going to have to educate her like he did Odango; maybe then she’d get the picture.

“Look, Matsumori-san, let’s be honest here. You’ve got no figure at all, you’re too short and not even that pretty. So stop throwing yourself at me, it’s pathetic.” Strangely enough, the tiny twinge that had snagged at his chest just a few weeks earlier wasn’t there this time. It was natural, an extension of his loathing for her and anyone like her. Pushy, snobby, spoiled little princesses who’ve never had to do a thing in their life; they had no idea what it was like to fight all the way to the top, to sacrifice. The world would be a better place without every single brainless, spineless little free ride like her. He didn’t need them. He didn’t want them.

She took an involuntary step backward, frozen words striking out at her like the crack of a whip. Her fingers clutched at nothing before her, head lowering as the horrified blush burned into her face. He felt no shame, though. She’d done nothing but push even when he’d told her he wasn’t interested. It had been too much to hope she’d just run off crying, though, because Matsumori wasn’t like that. Instead her shoulders straightened and her head lifted to level a dirty glare in his direction.

“I forget sometimes you’re such a jerk. I forgive you, though, Chiba-san.” He rolled his eyes at the hopelessness of the situation. She still wasn’t getting it, was she? Her shifting eyes scanned the area, probably hoping that no one had been close enough to hear his stinging words before she cornered him again. “So what do you go for, Mamoru-san? Men?”

He grimaced, more at the fact that she’d used his first name than the none-too-subtle accusation. There weren’t many people he felt that casual around, and she had never been one of them. He shot a cool glare in her direction and turned away. He had no respect for her, and it was obvious that she had none for him, either. Fanaticism only held sway for so long, after that he was just another rack of meat. It was irritating, and he had no intention of adding to the problem by continuing the conversation.

“Oi, Motoki-kun!” he called, relieved to see his familiar platinum blonde head bobbing not far away. A welcoming wave rose in greeting before the lone manager turned in their direction.

“So that’s the real story, then? You’re gay? Do you mind if I quote you on that last statement, Chiba-san? Which male student would you rather go to the dance with next week…” The young journalist was going to drive him insane. His jaw tightened painfully as the questions continued to spill from her mouth at an incredible rate. He couldn’t move fast enough across the yard, and Motoki couldn’t seem to move any quicker than a convulsing snail. It was just as they finally met halfway that Mamoru could take no more of the ridiculous questions and high-pitched, squeaking voice. He turned, stopping short and causing her to crash into his chest haphazardly as his answer sliced through the endless torrent.

“Sailor Moon, if you must know.” Both Motoki and Matsumori froze the second her name slipped past his mouth. In the same instant, he wondered if admitting such a thing had been a fatal mistake to his alter ego. Blond glanced at brunette unsurely as the moment stretched on in awkward silence. Admitting he had a crush on her would explain why he hadn’t been able to see anyone else for months now. The problem was that if he ever did talk her into dating him, she’d be pegged as the city’s heroine and lose her anonymity. Instead of risking the idea that his intentions might be taken seriously, he grinned in a boyish, offhand manner and continued. “Well, think about it. She’s hot, got great breasts, long blond hair and she spends her nights kicking the shit out of demons. I’d go for that.”

“Whoa, Mamoru-kun,” Motoki warned, suddenly very serious though he had no context behind the statements. That strangely protective glint had returned to his impish green eyes and he seemed to tense the slightest bit. Mamoru zeroed in on the reaction instantly, wondering why his friend was suddenly so defensive. “Don’t talk about Sailor Moon like that; she is more than a body.” 

He felt low just saying something so completely superficial about her, but being known as the campus playboy gave him a little bit more creative license. In all honestly, he really was madly in love with her, admired her in ways he couldn’t even describe to them. But how would one explain her girlish laugh, or how her tears made his soul shiver without giving away too much? Besides, no one took his romantic interests seriously. Everyone knew he was just looking for a good time, and therefore his comments were perfectly in character.

It was this thought that made him wonder if he was Chiba Mamoru, or Tuxedo Kamen. One was a shallow womanizer, and the other… he shook himself inwardly and continued on the tirade, pretending he didn’t feel anything more significant about her than blind lust.

“Tell me about it, the girl’s about as mysterious as Santa Clause, doesn’t hang around for any awkward social pause and is more likely to break your nose than go out with you.” He chuckled at his own joke, but missed the fact that no one else was joining in.

“God, is that what happened to your face?” He glanced over at her shocked tone, suddenly realizing exactly what he’d insinuated without even thinking about it. He stifled the urge to curse fluently and scoffed.

“Of course not! Her creepy cape-guy would kick my ass for trying.” The forced boyish grin melted beneath honest amusement at the picture of his alter ego knocking him senseless. Maybe no one else understood the joke, but to him it was mildly amusing at least. “What’s his name? Stalker Kamen?” Motoki especially was chuckling, now that the topic had veered from Moon and onto someone he could poke fun of without guilt. “I don’t pay attention to the male side of things, especially when there happens to be one of those sweet little Senshi girls conveniently floating around.”

“Dude, Mars is hot.” All three turned suddenly, aware that others had been listening to the conversation with avid interest. The one who’d spoken was grinning dumbly, shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes. Sensing the quick escape from the real focus of the conversation, Mamoru grinned encouragingly and bumped Motoki to do the same.

“No way, Mercury’s the one to go for. You know what they say about the quiet ones.” The other guy broke in, adjusting frameless glasses. He looked like someone you might find on the cover of a computer magazine modeling wires and motherboards with short brown hair and his jacket hanging over one shoulder.

“Figures you’d would go for a chick with blue hair.” Shaggy boy shot back, rolling his eyes. The other three had been completely silent up to this point, all wondering how the geek and the rocker had somehow ended up walking across the yard together. Random, he’d be the first to admit, but definitely ok at this point. Mamoru was just glad that no one had gone back to the original question, especially since Matsumori-san was still standing beside them. 

“So what you’re all saying is to get a date with Chiba-san, I’d have to be a Senshi?” The thought must have triggered that mouth again, because she stepped forward with predatory eyes, glaring around the group as if asking the greatest question in all of journalism history.

Horrified gasps broke out on all sides as that one terrible question fell from her tiny mouth. Every male was staring in hardened disapproval at the short, stick figure form before them and, creepily enough, trying to picture her in a sexy fuku. Mamoru shuddered, reaching up to rub his painful eyes at the thought. It’d be like wrapping skintight white fabric over a cereal box…

“Oh God please don’t!” The rocker was also holding hands over his eyes, trying to block out the visual as his things clattered to the grass below. One could hear his buddy whispering ‘sacrilege’ under his breath and glaring heatedly at the girl who dared rip away his fantasies. Shaggy let his hands drop from his eyes long enough to grip her shoulders and in a shaky voice, begin again in slow words, almost as if he were talking to a child. “You couldn’t fill out a fuku worth anything, Matsumori-san. Half the sex appeal would be gone.”

“More like three quarters. What size are you anyway?” Glasses, Mamoru decided, was the meaner of the two. But not by much.

“Guys, come on. That’s not very nice.” Motoki stepped forward, tone firm and angry as he glared the other two down. Blue eyes rolled heavenward as the furiously blushing girl took off running toward the science building behind them. The blond could be such a knight in shining armor sometimes. Not that the dark man was really against that sort of thing, but there was a certain kind of girl you did that kind of stuff for. She was not one of them. “Mamoru-kun, I thought you were better than that.” 

“What, I didn’t even say it! Besides, it’s true.” He shrugged, tired of the conversation already. Now that all imminent danger of being taken seriously had been tossed out the window, he turned to regard the two who had unknowingly saved him. Rocker was grinning at Glasses viciously and both were pounding fists at the victory. Once they noticed the upperclassmen, however, the shaggy one gripped the back of his head awkwardly.

“Sorry, guys. We overheard the conversation and thought you might need a bit of help.” Glasses nodded as well, crossing his arms and turning away.

“More like we just hate her.”

At the two blank stares, it was obvious they’d overstayed their welcome.

“Well, carry on!” One grabbed the other and suddenly Mamoru was quite alone and facing the disapproving glare of his best friend to boot. This day just kept getting better and better.

“So, is that what happened? You asked Moon out?” Motoki’s glare only got more penetrating as the other man shrugged indifferently. But it was a useless gesture, and they both knew it. Motoki could always read him better than most, and at times like this it was hard to admit it was a good thing. “That explains a few things. Jeez.”

Mamoru was left puzzling that last statement over as his friend quickly stepped over to the benches running along the path. They’d been friends since grade school, had shared a lot of things together since then, and had even ended up at the same university through some random twist of fate. It wasn’t like they knew everything about each other, but sometimes it felt close. And just now, Motoki’d hit a sore spot. It was almost as if his buddy had somehow known Mamoru would do something stupid like go after a Senshi. 

It wasn’t like it would change anything between them in the long run, they’d always disagreed when it came to girls. The blond was your run-of-the-mill gentleman or knight in shining armor as the situation called for. Of course, his parents had been adamant on teaching him things like that. Mamoru, on the other hand, had never had the luxury of caring parents; his teachers had been older homeless kids, sleazy bosses, and after signing as a model, other models. Not exactly the best places to learn etiquette, he’d wager.

“And what exactly does that explain?” he shot back hotly, following close on his friend’s heels to the bench. A few quick strides and he was settling himself down next to the oddly serious blond. The heavy shoulder pack shifted downward, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Early in the day and already his back was killing him. That dumb bag had to weigh at least a hundred pounds, he was sure of it. His homework had largely been left undone in the past few weeks, something he was going to pay for soon enough. 

“Well, for one thing,” Motoki glanced up at him before pulling out his biology text and turning his attention to the chapter heading, “you’ve been avoiding women at all costs and I catch you staring off into lala-land over your coffee instead of studying. Now, you’ve never turned down a decent looking girl in your life until late last year randomly, and it looks like you’ve got a couple weeks worth of homework molding in the bottom of you backpack. How was I not going to guess that something’s been up?”

Wow, when put in so many words, he really had been obvious about it. No wonder Motoki’d been trying to set him up so much lately! Well, he could admit he’d been acting a bit strange, but for the usually bubbly arcade manager to be so serious over a crush…wait, that shouldn’t be happening, should it? His eyes narrowed again, head tilting back curiously as he stretched the aching muscles in his back

“What do you care, man? She’s a Senshi, it’s not like it’s ever going to happen.” Glowering green eyes glanced up from the book, forgetting the fact that he should have been studying rather than having this conversation.

“Don’t give me that crap, Mamoru. You just talked her up like she was some kinky porn star and already asked her out. What did you think she’d do, fall into your arms?”

God, that stung! His first pain-filled thought was how true it was, but he wasn’t about to just back down. Years in a loveless orphanage had taught him all too well how to lash out in kind. Motoki was not the kind of guy to get all irritated over nothing, and whatever it was the other guy was hiding really angered him. The blond always had everything in the open. He always spread the gossip around, goofed off like a loon and talked like nothing in the world ever got him down. Motoki didn’t have secrets, Motoki didn’t have problems. Mamoru did. So what in the hell did he have to be angry about?

“Why are you suddenly so protective of someone you don’t even know?” He asked quietly, the rage boiling through him suddenly making him painfully calm. But spontaneous Motoki nearly threw his books down in agitation and spun around to peer directly into the cool gaze.

“Why do you have no respect for someone who sacrifices her life to protect everyone? She’s saved me a couple of times now and it pisses me off hardcore to hear you talk about her like that! Show some respect, will ya?”

As the two stared each other down, it was the first time ever that Mamoru couldn’t really fight back with a witty retort. He bit his lip to keep the rage from boiling over, noting that Motoki had done the same.   
They’d never fought like this before. Sure, Mamoru could be a cold, distant bastard, but Motoki had always forgiven him for it. To be fighting over someone he didn’t really know –and his with friend even less- that was too much. He had already regretted the brash decision to talk about Moon as if she were nothing more than a body, but damn it! To have his very best friend talk to him as if he were nothing more than some chauvinist…

Which he was.

The thought forced his eyes down to the backpack at his feet, and brought up the question he’d found himself asking before. Who was he, anyway? Some shallow playboy incapable of having a healthy relationship with a girl; or was he Tuxedo Kamen, who risked his life for the woman he loved without thinking twice? When had it all become so complicated anyway? And how many times had he thought of her as just that? A body? 

He swallowed thickly, reaching up to brush fingers along his still bruising nose bridge. Given the fact that she knew him in civilian form, she must see him as the same. No wonder she’d turned him down flat. He had just had to push his luck and be the expectant one. She, on the other hand, had just been trying to save herself. And here, he’d been blaming things like PMS, thinking she didn’t have the right to be angry at him. He should have looked a little more through her eyes. He should have cared. 

“Though I think I woulda paid good money to watch that happen.” Motoki broke through his thoughts amusedly, drawing his attention back to the present. Tiny little sparks of pain shot straight into his skull every time he touched it, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, this little wound was nothing compared to what he was feeling right then –what she must be feeling like. “By a girl, no less. That’s just priceless.”

“By a Senshi, ok? Not just any girl.” One glance in the blonde’s direction showed a mischievous grin lighting the corners of his mouth, his eyes lost in thought. Mamoru rolled his own and tried to hide his answering smile. It was a funny thought, really. She probably weighed less than a hundred pounds, but damn could she land a good one when provoked. He was suddenly glad his friend didn’t know about his alter-ego, or that really would have ruined his image!

“Ya, what is she? 6 years younger than you?” The blond shot back, wiping absentmindedly at his book before focusing on the words. 

“Where did you get that?” Mamoru’s eyebrows drew together in shock. There was no way that girl could possibly be that young! Not only would it be perfectly illegal for a child like that to rock a mini-skirt like she could, but that would mean a kid just shattered his nose bridge!

“Uh…just a guess, really. She does look really young.” Motoki waved away the question distractedly, hardly glancing up from the pages before him before checking his watch quickly. Mamoru nodded finally, watching his friend for a moment. A comment like that, with an odd number like 6…what was he playing at?

“No way. 6 years would put her in middle school. Too young to have to fight.” He turned to his backpack again, quickly unzipping the top to rummage around inside for his homework. Class would start soon, and it was the one piece he had bothered with over the weekend.

“She’d be Usagi’s age. And we all know she’s a bit of a spitfire.” The statement was made in an offhand manner, one that didn’t really catch Mamoru completely aware as he searched. Maybe it was the fact that he was so terribly distracted, but had he glanced over then, Motoki’s impish grin would have scared him.

“Please, Odango-brain couldn’t hurt a fly even if she wanted to. Besides, isn’t she like twelve?” Mamoru muttered distractedly, still rummaging around in his pack. He could have sworn he put his finance homework in the black binder, but maybe it was the blue one?

“Actually, she seems much more violent when you’re around. And she’s fifteen.”

A piercing wail broke through the soft morning chirps, sending Mamoru flying to his feet and papers falling to the ground around him. Motoki’s jaw dropped in confusion and awe at the strangely defensive stance his best friend was taking. A second later, the wail came again, this time accompanied by a shot of golden blond hair and billowing blue skirt as the girl in question swung around the corner and shot off toward school.

“Oh, Usagi-chan. What are we going to do with you? She’s been spending way too much time with that priestess, if you ask me. I don’t know if she’s helping Usagi-chan out or not.” Motoki stated quietly, a soft smile playing on his mouth. Mamoru rolled his eyes in frustration and knelt down to pick up the mess of papers laying haphazardly across the sidewalk. God, of all the things it could have been –it just had to be that crybaby wailing about school! And here, he’d been hoping for so much more… 

Mamoru grunted in frustration, obviously more worried about picking up the rest of his homework than wondering why Odango was running to school from the opposite direction than usual. It should have been a Youma attack! It should have been the signal he’d been waiting for weeks to get! His eyes lit up triumphantly at the sight of his paper laying innocently on the grass not three feet from him. He hadn’t done a whole lot of homework lately, but at least he finished that one assignment without too many problems. It didn’t matter; his GPA was high enough that a few missed assignments wouldn’t touch him.

He settled himself back into the bench confusedly, realizing there had been no rhyme or rhythm to his thoughts a moment ago. Tired hands reached up to rub against his eyes as he thought. Why had his train of thought gone off course again? The paper…right, the paper. He focused on the sheet in question, barely listening to his buddy as he went over the calculations for the fourth time. It was only when the blond continued to press the conversation about Usagi’s age that he stated his opinion at last.

“Who cares? She’s just a kid, Motoki, you worry about her too much.” And with that said, he focused again on number 11, wishing he’d taken the time to find his calculator during all that rummaging around. Damn it, he was tired! He didn’t want to worry about ridiculous things like homework and equations and finances! He wanted to see Moon! Well, and he wanted a nap. Strange dreams had kept him up again, filled with things he shouldn’t know…

“Fifteen, Mamoru. She’s older than you think and you were nothing but an ass to her the other day. It’s a good thing she’s so strong or you could have crushed her confidence forever.”  
He bent, thinking back to the crushed, mouse-like look she’d given him at the corner that day…then shrugged as the calculator was yanked free. She’d knocked him flat on his butt without so much as an apology! That alone was grounds to irritate the hell out of the girl, guilt free.

“Whatever, she’ll get over it. She’s a tough kid.” Not to mention the fact that his most favorite green jacket had ended up in the gutter with the rest of his dry cleaning. Of all the things she could have muddied, it just had to be that! Did she not realize that it was the only article of clothing so hideous it could actually cause the fan club to keep at least 5 feet further from his person in sheer panic?

“Fifteen, Mamoru. Not a kid.”

But Motoki’s words were lost to him as he turned back to his homework.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The world burst into a spectacular show of color and light, a sense of weightlessness lifting the normally stationary ground out from below her. Pain erupted from the side of her face, quickly followed by scraped knees and bloody palms as she collapsed into the rocky earth below. A heady sense of nausea rippled through her stomach, aided by the strange fog suddenly covering her vision like a broken kaleidoscope. The fresh smell of tonight’s drizzle faded behind the stench of coppery blood. The side of her face throbbed and screamed as she forced herself to breathe again, hoping her stomach would stand still long enough for her to catch a second wind.

She blinked, once, twice; the world washed grey and blue for a moment before the yellow rocks below her finally began to take shape. Dribbled innocently across the ground below lay a small spatter of red, the obvious evidence a newly split lip. Heaving a second breath and forcing her head to turn toward the others, she noted almost listlessly that they were rushing toward her. Their mouths were moving, but for some reason, she couldn’t hear a thing other than the ringing in her ears.

Well, so much for after-school training sessions. Maybe she should have transformed after all…Her mind suddenly went blank, her chest freezing over as if the devil himself had ripped her heart free. She gasped in shock, not ready for what was about to happen. But by then, her body had crashed into the earth below, sending tiny pebbles scraping along her face and body as she did. The pain was miniscule; hardly worth noting as the fog grew thickly across her eyes.

The sensation of soft paws against her eyelids felt feverish, the sounds became jumbled and unclear as the world finally slipped away from her.  
.  
.  
……………………..

Mist hung thickly across the vine-choked grounds, the air dense even in the bitter cold. Massive trees speared toward the heavens in a senseless, wild tangle of limbs and claw-like branches. The broken, uneven ground dipped and rose with all the eccentricity such a place could boast, often concealing it’s twisted, writhing paths in shadow till nothing could be judged safe. Hollow, creeping sounds skittered across the interwoven expanse of nature’s chaos, and quickly sent a shiver racing across the skin. Turbulent nerves coiled in agony at the eerie scene, accenting the preternatural composure of the small, backwoods temple hidden away beneath the hills. 

It was ancient, the age-worn structure filled with mist from the burdening night. Across its ivory stone pillars lay a thick coating of moss and plant life, winding their way upwards toward the chilling sky. It was cool, enough to be slightly uncomfortable should a breeze flit past, and the air hung low with a sallow, musty stench. The frightening aura was augmented by the sounds of forest animals rustling through the underbrush, the soft hooting of the Terran owls, and the distant flap of leathery wings. 

Had it been any other circumstance, Serenity would have been terrified in such a lonely, abandoned place so far from any known civilization. But with a strong arm wrapped closely around her, and the comforting feel of his steady breathing to break the heavy atmosphere, she was content. Her long fingers tangled in the mid-weight cloak wrapped around his broad shoulders to ward off the cold. Her feet tangled helplessly in the uneven ground, heavy dress burdened by branches and vines as they passed. On more than one occasion, she was sure the hem of the thick, intricate ivory-colored gown had been ripped during the excursion, but the thrill humming through her veins was enough to dispel any care she might have felt for it. 

It was their last night. Though the thought brought an intense jolt of sorrow burning in her chest, she fought back the tears enough to enjoy it. Her handsome prince had declared war on the Gods in taking her from her quarters, something she had thought even he would hesitate to do. Yet here they were, off to meet some unknown person for a secret wedding hidden within the shadows of the forest. She could only hope her mother had not yet noticed her disappearance and gone to search for her. The Queen had not been pleased in the slightest at the news of her daughter’s betrayal, and since had been easily angered over the matter.

Endymion stilled, and with him, her shifting thoughts. A solitary figure stood among the broken pillars, black robe folding garnet in the bitter moonlight. The omnipresent mist coiled and furled across her form, creating a scene easily mistaken for supernatural. Within the darkening night, the figure appeared ghostlike and terrifying. The face was hidden in shadow, eyes lost in the darkened pit of cowl pulled about the head. Within one disturbingly pale hand, a large staff held steady against the quickly rising gust that threatened the weaving branches. The air felt suddenly cold, the moment frozen in time as Endymion’s sure hand at her back pushed her forward.

The Lunarian beauty had been born and raised surrounded by the Gods, and therefore easily sensed the figure’s well concealed power. She –for it was definitely a she- beckoned the two closer, pale fingers crooking in the half light. The uneven ground was touched here and there by jutting marble and rotting wood, making the journey across a long and difficult one with the added bonus of Earth’s gravity. Though her steps were unsteady, in time the figure stood before them with hand outstretched. Serenity forced herself to remain perfectly calm and poised, though inside her body was shaking terribly in fear and hope. In a vain attempt to calm herself more readily, she reached out to this new figure, testing the boundaries of her power as only one Goddess could to another.

Her surprise could not be more complete at what she felt, though. The woman’s aura was ancient, tinged with time and deeply set sorrow. The dark garnet folds of her cloak seemed aged, though still beautiful. The strange woman was an antique of sorts, a hidden treasure as yet unknown to the world of mortals. A wry smile tickled the corner of the Moon Goddess’s mind, but she did not act on it. This was a sense she had not experienced for herself, though stories were enough to confirm their visitor’s identity.

“Lady Setsuna,” Serenity bowed softly, humbled that the daughter of Kronos had graced them this last evening. It would make perfect sense for her to be the officer; so far as she knew the other Gods would have nothing to do with them. The sudden question of this particular Goddess’s motives came and went without further explanation or thought. Kronos must have sent His daughter here for a specific reason; and though Serenity herself had no clue as to why such was the case, she accepted the honor gratefully. The Others had not been terribly kind once news of the affair had leaked out through her Inner Guard, and so this meeting was to be kept secret for as long as possible.

Should the moment be discovered by the Immortals, it would serve far better than any cry to battle. It was hours away even now, no matter how greatly she wished otherwise. With every halting second that passed, the opposing armies neared the ill-fated battle grounds. It broke her heart to think that soon, all of this world would be lost. Her hand tightened around his softly, knowing the greater pain was the thought of losing him. A million lives were not so important if he was to be lost in exchange. It was selfish, just like this wedding, but she would make the decision time and time again if it meant she could have him.  
The cloaked figure bowed likewise, turning to her prince and following suit. The pale white gloves on her hands glowed faintly as the cloak opened wide to reveal her battle attire. Serenity had never known the ancient woman to be of the same following as her guardians, yet the black and red fuku clearly spoke otherwise. Often, she had wondered if the daughter of the outmost planet joined ranks with those of Uranus, Neptune, and Saturn in defending the far borders from intrusion.

A soft smile did break free now, for such a ridiculous thought at a time like this. Dear, she was beginning to become quite flighty and the ceremony had not even begun. This did not speak well for the short honeymoon to follow.

There were no introductions, no fancy speeches as Serenity had often imagined at her wedding. The Gods loved to hear themselves speak, and did so even when there was no occasion. But the words coming from Lady Setsuna were not of any language the princess had ever heard before; it was not a tongue of this era. The whispering, haunting, melodic language floated around them, filled the short space between them, bound them together with a nearly tangible thread. The meaning of the words had long since been lost to the pages of history, but it did not stop her from wondering at such a ceremony now. Would not some simple passing of a cup work as well, as it had at the wedding of Eros and Psyche?

When her low, soft voice began to rise, reaching a piqued climax, she slowed and paused, cowl falling back from her head as her eyes lifted toward the heavens. Sharp, glittering black eyes burned against them; the color of her skin not unlike a dark shadow in high contrast to the stark white of her attire. The striking combination, along with the bell-like floating words that lingered, left her breathless and lost in anticipation.

“The Token?”

.  
.  
……………………………

He called this one the secret wedding. The way the princess stood beside him, and the quiet manner in which everything was conducted seemed to present such a case. The silent woman at his side was perfectly still, her hand soft and confident in his. The vision was set in a dark forest, surrounded by crumbling pillars of what appeared to be an ancient Greek temple. The officer was always cloaked and hooded, and the question she asked seemed to echo into the silent night.

The Token was a small white thing, a plant that he felt strangely sure held some sort of deep significance, though he had no idea what it was. As much as he tried to focus on the object through the indefinite haze, it was taken much too quickly by his companion. She was smiling, fingering the item in pleasure and curiosity. It signaled the familiar end of the dream as her face turned upward with a suggestive tilt. But it was not a kiss he saw, nor did he want to.

His body shuddered helplessly as the frigid grip loosened inch by inch, allowing him to breathe once more. His blood was pounding heavily in his ears, racing through his veins as he sucked in deep breaths over and over. Every muscle relaxed slowly, painfully reminding him of how long they’d stood on end throughout the vision. It was a point that bothered him immensely, he could never figure out if these images were memories, or him standing in the place of another person entirely. 

If they were memories, they wouldn’t make him seize up like they did unless something else was going on; and if they were visions of another person, he’d just be pissed. The only other option outside of those two was that he was finally losing his mind and hallucinating the whole thing. Considering the fact that that would mean Moon herself was also an illusion, the idea didn’t exactly induce ecstasy.  
One thing resounded loud and clear, however; that the Moon Princess was staking her claim on him with every intimate little scene. They’d had hot make-out sessions, dirty joke contests, and a wild romp through some meadow. They always, always felt like a secret, as if they were hiding from someone. With every dream, she seemed to beg soundlessly for the Silver Crystal; even though their actions had nothing to do with the mystical gem, it left him burning to find it. Never once had she even whispered the name of it, but he’d always known what she wanted, what she needed.

This…Ginzuishou: the name seemed to be some sort of innate knowledge, and he was sure that it was the reason he could transform into Tuxedo Kamen. It was this fact alone that kept him from rebelling. At least he could see Moon every time he went out in search of it, instead of simply acting on command of some imaginary being. She held no real sway over him, except to search for the gem. Each vision would signal a battle soon, and was exactly what he’d been looking forward to for weeks now. He was waiting, eager to start already. All he needed was the signal from his hot little warrior, and he’d be racing out the window in a heartbeat.

Yes, the Crystal was all that the Princess needed; and so he was willing to find it for her. This…disturbing claim of ownership over him, however, was not something he was willing to negotiate. He had no intention of doing more than finding the magical object, if only to get her highness off his back and let him focus on more interesting things. The Moon Princess could pine away in her ghostly prison in the back of his mind, so long as the Senshi ended up in his arms.

Well, however high up her station was, he had a few words to say about it all. He didn’t enjoy being used as a puppet, no matter how encouraging the companions were. He also didn’t like having his days so rudely interrupted every time she dug her nails into his chest and sent visions spinning through his head. This most recent one was only a single snapshot in many that had kept him up at night, and nearly cost him his job a few times. The princess had to be conceited in the worst way to think these things were a temptation in the slightest.

After all, Mamoru did not consider himself a fickle man; for years he’d lived his life one single conquest at a time. Once realizing said amusement wasn’t what he wanted, he’d moved on. In a way, he was grateful to her Highness for pointing out his obvious match so nicely. He’d be a moron to think even for a second that he and Moon wouldn’t be perfect for each other. Even the popular news had hinted at their chemistry more than once, and he was fairly sure the pairing had its own small following among his classmates.

So what was it that drew him to Moon and not to this ghost of a princess anyway? Well, for one thing, if Moon decided to stick her cute little hands in his chest, at least she had the decency to follow through with an appearance! That fact alone completely obliterated whatever irritation he might have felt for it. Not to mention that every time he watched Moon jump headlong into battle, it made his blood sing with an acute mixture of pride and arousal. The princess probably hadn’t worked a day in her life, if the feel of her overly-pampered hands had anything to say about it.

Mamoru liked his women a little more passionate, more robust and ready for action. 

And if the icy-cold grip suddenly tearing at his heart was any indication, he’d be seeing it firsthand very soon.  
.  
.  
………………………….

Warm rain splashed haphazardly across the stone face of the courthouse, drenching the pillars and stairs in a sheet of highly reflective water. Streetlights danced in the constant patter on the ground, like a million fireflies swarming round and around each other forever. The fresh scent of the storm lay thickly in the air around them, pushing the uncomfortable humidity straight into their lungs. It was warm out, at least. If there were only one consolation for a late-night fight, this would be the one Moon herself would choose.

He had no idea how he knew that. What he did know, however, was that his cloak was abominably heavy when soaking wet. He suppressed an irritated grimace as his feet shifted uneasily. At least the ridiculous top hat kept most of the rain out of his eyes as he watched their progress from a few hundred feet away. He didn’t have a whole lot of power, unlike the other Senshi, so each attack had to be well timed to be the most effective. Twenty minutes into the fight, and he still had yet to hit anything. Moon was staying fairly well out of range of the thing, and the other two seemed to be distracting the monster as much as possible without drawing attention to the short blonde. This, he had to admit, was a new song and dance. 

“Fire soul!” the red Senshi burst into flaming glory more than a hundred feet to his right, attack sizzling through the downpour to crash heavily into the youma. This signaled Moon’s first move of the night as she dove forward with fists swinging. At this, he couldn’t help but smile a little knowingly. She was short and probably weighed less than a hundred pounds, but he definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of that punch. 

“Shabon spray!” Mercury’s ethereal voice drifted into the open, quickly coating the large stairwell in impenetrable mist. The last thing Kamen managed to make out was Moon slamming an uppercut into the reeling monster’s face –then, all was mist and shadows. 

The stifled curse barely broke free before he was moving. His feet pounded along the pavement, blood rushing painfully loud in his ears and breath coming in short gasps. The sudden tug at his chest was enough to send him diving headlong through the mists to scoop up her prone form. The ground rumbled ominously, emanating from the space she’d previously occupied. Had he not moved when he did…shit! He rolled to his feet, grateful the girl hardly weighed a thing as he did. Each pounding step from behind brought that thing closer, and he had to get to safety long enough to see if she was alright. 

The grounds lit an angry red color, bleeding through the mist as the footsteps receded from behind them. He took the offered moment to duck behind a nearby pillar and catch his breath. It was times like these he wished he had better attacks, or power he could use more often. At least then, he’d be a little more help to the Senshi, instead of ducking in and out of the fight like a coward.

“You ok?” He called a moment later, carefully setting the small girl down. She nodded; her face pale but steady, and quickly pushed him away. He sighed agitatedly as she stepped back and rushed headlong into the fight. The sudden loss of warmth left a palpable feeling of regret burning through him, which he quickly ignored. They were in the middle of a fight, and now was not the time to be worried about whether or not she was purposely ignoring him.

Something about the lines of her body, partially hidden by mist…

She burst out with new strength, firing the tiara with painful accuracy as the monster leapt in for the kill on Mars. Moon raced after the burning object, moving much more quickly than she had before to shove the fire Senshi out of the way. A growl boomed through the quickly dissipating mist, accented by the soft, drizzling patter of rain and wind. Mars’ angry shriek was lost beneath all the noise, but Kamen was already moving to their rescue.

His hand warmed with the charge, then flicked. An explosion rocketed through the small clearing, following by the horrified screech of their enemy. Green spurt in every direction, soaking the frost littered ground. There was no time to think as the area exploded in red, the fire from Mars’ attack reflecting and bouncing through the paltry haze till nothing could be seen because of it. He wasn’t fast enough to hide behind the cloak, and was so blinded by the light burning into his eyes that by the time they cleared, so had the mist. The monster was still smoking, lying draped across the stone stairs of the courthouse with two less limbs than it had had previously. From both stumps leaked a strange green liquid he was fairly sure passed for blood wherever this thing was from. The clean cut on the right arm clearly marked Moon’s specific touch, where the battered mulch of the leg marked his. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was some sort of symbolism in that.

“Twilight flash!” Her familiar voice rang clear as a bell before the purplish-pink light of her attack burst through the rain. A fine sheen of ash was left mixing in the rainwater as it slid and slung down the stairs and into the empty street. Now that the youma was out of the way, he breathed a quick sigh of relief and glanced around curiously. Mercury was hefting herself up from the ground not far from the others, Mars was leaning against her knees tiredly, and Moon…was grinning like mental patient. 

A faint chuckle broke free at the look on her face as she turned to the other two. What an odd girl she was. The fight had been fairly routine. Now was the time when they would jibber and talk about everything that happened, and he would slip off into the night. Well, he amended, that was about to be another irregularity in a string of many. He had no intention of disappearing. His gaze fell on the currently celebrating leader of the Senshi and couldn’t help the wistful smile at the sight of her jumping up and down excitedly and laughing at to the other two.

She didn’t seem ready to leave yet, and for that he was grateful. The Smoking Bomber took a lot out of him, and he needed a moment to catch his breath before asking to speak with her. He spent the time watching her, not something he did very often due to certain regulations he had felt were in place. Instead, he found himself strangely fixated on her twirling, laughing form as she spun through the rain in dizzy abandon. One glance at the others proved that they were also amusing themselves at the childish display, Mercury smiling along quietly and Mars with folded arms. 

Moon’s ringing laughter tinkled like wind chimes through the steady noise of falling raindrops, and could make anyone smile in response to it. She was so…innocent; in spite of all the horror she’d seen for over a year and a half, she could still act like a juvenile child directly after defeating something from a nightmare. For one small, unbelievable moment, Kamen found himself completely entranced by her, feeling as though she were something not quite human. Was it possible to see the things they did and still find that much joy in a little thing like rain? 

After a childhood like his, there had never been a questioning thought on the matter. Joy and happiness were foreign words usually found in books and poems, not in real life. Life did not hand out free love, or free anything for that matter. It was hard and cold, something to live through and endure with as little personal sacrifice and pain as possible. It was not something that should be wasted on the superfluous. It was not something that should be spent without a goal in mind. So, that begged the question, what was the point of spinning through the rain like a loon?

For the second time that night, he found himself on the brink of something that could not be put into words. It was something as strange and alien as his thoughts of happiness –something he could see and understand on a logical basis, but could not in fact touch or taste or feel. Like the outsider looking through the glass at a conundrum, it was too complex for even his mind to work out. And he did not like the feeling, nor did he want to spend all night pondering something so worthless. 

He pushed himself away from the pillar as the other two Senshi wrapped companionable arms around their leader and began to pull her toward the street beneath cute little squeals of protest. He had already chosen his words before hand, but it didn’t squelch the immediate need to push the other two free of her and let her frolic as long as she liked in the downpour. So long as she laughed, so long as she smiled and made his knees go weak with desire…

“Oi, Moon.” He called, just loud enough to freeze her mid-step. The other two paused as well, all three faces turning in astonishment to stare at him. There was a tiny shiver of self-awareness crawling up his spine, and he wondered faintly if it had been the best idea to corner her while the other two were still around. The whole point of asking her out in civilian form had been to avoid them entirely. He cleared his throat authoritatively, pushing away the awkwardness of the moment, and ignored the other two. “Don’t go running off just yet, I’ve got some questions I want answered first.” 

The wind swept her hair back toward him, driving the sharp, stinging rain directly into his mask and face and blinding him momentarily with a watery sheet. It was enough to miss the awkward shock carving lines into her otherwise smooth face. He carefully wiped the mask clean and peered meaningfully at her, willing her to understand that he was not just going to disappear, and neither would his intentions. 

Slowly, as if in defeat, her arms dropped from the shoulders of the surrounding Senshi.  
.  
.  
……………………..

There was no time to waste on the other two. Now that the fight was over, he’d hardly even noticed their presence as he came forward to grip her hand carefully. She was limp and cold, her eyes stared blankly at the ground before her in abject misery. The rain continued to fall around them as he stepped closer, willing her to meet his eyes. She seemed so lifeless…so utterly devoid of human emotion or light. It was a stark contrast to how she’d acted only moments prior. The sight sent a cool shiver down his spine as he bent, quickly pulled the cape around her shoulders and leapt off into the mist-shrouded darkness.

It stung against his face; the tiny, pounding missiles that rained down from the murky heavens in a warm torrent that raced across the exposed skin and drug balefully at the heavy cloak. Yet he fought through it, carefully holding his prize as if she were a fragile trinket in a world constructed entirely of pain and remorse and fear. The warm rain washed away these things in part, cleansing the hot August summer in preparation for the coming cold. Soon now, it would be his favorite time of the year, when life slowly drained it’s gaudy, brilliant colors in exchange for the softer, cooler tones he had always admired and preferred.

It wasn’t his birthday anymore, but that didn’t quell the subtle smile playing on his lip. Enjoying her in the fall would be just as sweet. He wondered if someday soon, after this whole misunderstanding had blown over, she might like a little romp in his favorite spot: a meadow lost deep within the embracing arms of the national forest. It would soon be the most beautiful time of year there, when the grounds were speckled golden and red, and the dying sun burned through the still-burdened trees. Her hair would mingle with the leaves that would fall around them, her eyes catch the dying sunlight as they always had before. Her pleasured shrieks would fill the forest around them, mingled with playful wind-song and the rustle of disturbed plants as they had their fill of each other.

Hell yes. He grinned thoughtfully, tightening his hold around her as they sailed across an especially wide gap between buildings. By autumn, then. They’d have this little chat, clear up any misunderstandings and be happily on their way before the clock struck midnight. Well, maybe twelve thirty, he conceded, because of the whole broken nose business.

By the time he’d finally pulled himself out of his stupor, the rain had begun to dwindle to a soft patter. The moon peeked out from behind the bruising clouds mischievously, mixing her silvery light with the dim, sallow streetlamps below. His eyes scanned the shifting mists, certain they were getting close to the area he’d planned on taking her. The courthouse wasn’t terribly romantic, and the rooftops just weren’t as safe as he’d thought before. He grinned, both at the sight of his destination and the feel of her stiffly shifting in his arms.

“Just a minute.” He murmured to her quietly before taking to the skies again. It only took a couple more jumps before they descended again to street level. Luckily no one hung around this place longer than absolutely necessary –it was why he’d been so deliberate in choosing it above all others. It was quiet here, secluded and far from the ears and eyes of the world during the storm. Not to mention the fact that a girl of any age would find their surroundings quite romantic.

The scene was set against an exquisite background of color and form. The soft, melodic trickle of a nearby stream eased the silence. The fresh, robust scent of a garden mid-rain hung about them companionably while the breeze shifted the night onward. Broken, wounded shafts of silver moonlight breathed heavily along a pale, stone path and dripped across the perfectly clustered flowers. By daylight, their colors and hues melded and clashed in a symphony of elaborate design –but the gentle, lover’s caress of deep shadow and moonlight truly showcased the endless beauty that lay around them.

Late summer, and the flowers piqued in anxious climax; their scents heady and lingering within the recent downpour. Already, their dewy lips pursed before the brewing sky; begging, aching to be released from the long awaited agony of summer. Their bursts of fragrance and life would soon wither and fade beneath the unrelenting cold to come. It was both pitiable and beautiful in a tragic sort of way. All things pleaded for sweet release, only to shrivel and die the moment their greatest wishes were realized. 

He glanced down at the bundle in his arms. She smelled like rain; as if she’d been washed clean and stood before him pure and untouched. Maybe even untouchable. He let go then, noting to himself that she had made no move to pull away from him. She was acting very strangely tonight. Normally, she’d be half crazed to be drug off by her hero to some romantic spot. Now she knew who he was though, and that had ended the eager fire in her eyes as quickly as it had first appeared. 

The thought sent a sharp pain through him as he longingly watched her back away a few steps. His only obsession, his dream lover…his goddess; her hair was wet and curling around her form possessively, her skin nearly glowing beneath the subtle mixture of moonlight and streetlamp. He was lost to her, and had no will to fight it. In that moment more than any other, he realized that no matter what happened –even if it meant the complete surrender to death and hell, he needed her. Not desired or wanted her, but honest-to-god would die without her.

“I’m sorry to steal you away like this,” he began hoarsely, throat heavy and dry for no other reason than his own nerves. The cool façade receded tonight; he knew he had done something terribly wrong at their last meeting and therefore was determined to rectify it. Besides, she’d never been one for pretence. “I won’t keep you out long. You must be tired.”

The resounding silence throbbed in his ears, slowly uncoiling the bundle of nerves floating in his stomach. His throat scratched in the damp air, eyes watching her for any sign that she’d heard him. But she remained perfectly still, outlined by the drooping, swaying branched of a nearby weeping willow. Thick golden tresses swung in time, alternately lapping at her figure in greedy lust and trailing through the playful night wind. He took her silence in hand, though, steadying himself before speaking again.

“I wanted to apologize; ask you to forget everything I said the other night.” His words signaled her first movement. Her head tilted to the side in curiosity, eyebrow rising in silent question. The silvery moonlight smoothed across her face like cream across ivory, and quickly stole what tiny bit of breath he had in his lungs. She said nothing, but her question froze the nervous bundle in his abdomen and sent shivers dancing across his lower spine.

“Not the part where I told you I loved you,” he amended quickly, suddenly feeling quite sheepish and awkward before her, “I meant that.” The quiet sincerity gave him courage, even though he suddenly wished he’d never spoken the words at all. Ever since that night, he’d felt nearly every emotion there was, had pondered things he’d never bothered with before. Since when had he been so childish and afraid of a girl? He’d always felt calm and determined before. She was ruining him with her silence, with her anger. He was trying to apologize! Didn’t that mean anything? He swallowed again, nearly coughing at the painful scratch in his throat. “Please say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” Her countering reply was curt and guarded as both arms folded hastily across her chest.

The words died in his throat at the immanent signs of fire. It was something yes, but he knew all too well how she could be when provoked. She was angry, obviously shielding herself from him. One could almost see the steam rolling off her stiff form- or was it the mist? He fought the urge to shake his head, replacing it again with a tiny bit of his earlier confidence.

“ ‘I forgive you’ would be a good place to start, I think.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the sallow mood and ease her concerns. Instead, heated blue eyes slanted in irritation. The first chill wind of the season swept past, tugging at her hair and skirt with sharp fingers. Her stance shifted, legs set slightly wider as if readying for a fight.

“But I don’t.”

There was a dull thud. His heart maybe? All the breath rushed from his lungs in one great puff of anxiety and the smile sputtered and went out. That aching spot in his chest that always seemed to react to her throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His already dry throat scratched and hurt, as if he were swallowing all the painful words he could think of at once.

“You don’t even know what you did, I bet. You can’t be sorry for it.”

“Yes I can. What kind of dumb rule is that?” He countered confusedly, mind spinning. Her initial attack had lit something in him, and instinctual need to defend himself. Besides, what was he, some sort of mind reader? “How the hell was I supposed to know it would piss you off?”

“What?” from the confused look on her face, she obviously had not been able to follow his train of thought. He groaned; that much should have been obvious, she wasn’t a mind reader either.

“Sorry.” He shifted, feeling his hackles rising for a fight like they did with the Odango. But this wasn’t some whiny middle school brat, this was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He had to be calm and cool, get the answers he needed and convince her to give him a chance. “Can I at least ask why you won’t go out with me?”

“You mean,” she paused here to kick at a small pebble with a red boot before continuing, “besides the fact that you’re an arrogant, womanizing, self-centered jerk? Maybe the fact that I don’t really want to be just another notch in your belt? Gosh, I don’t know, Mamoru-kun.”

God, sarcasm? From Moon? The world had officially gone nuts in the last few minutes. The girl was sweet as sugar and definitely fiery, but sarcasm was not something he’d ever seen from her. Especially not of the scathingly true variety, that was the worst. He had to admit, with a look back, maybe revealing his civilian identity hadn’t been such a good idea to begin with. Coming from his side, such relations were normal, but from hers he must look like the a-typical male. Well…shit.

“Look, let’s just…focus on the subject, k? I haven’t been like that in a long time, and it’s all because I met you, Moon. I just want a chance…”

“To what?” She broke through the nervous tirade with a calm retort. “Take me on a date? At your place? Then what, you want to sleep with me and brag to all your college buddies about it? Everyone’s hero gets to sleep with the stupid little Senshi girl. Very honorable.”

“Now wait just a minute…” he broke through, fire rising again at the accusations. He had fantasized more than once about her and him, but none of that had anything to do with anyone from the college.

“How did you describe me again? Big boobs? Great legs? I forget the exact wording.”

The words fizzled out on the tip of his tongue as the conversation with Matsumori came to mind from a few days earlier. She’d heard about that? Shit! He hadn’t meant it seriously! It was just to throw them off the trail, not for her to somehow overhear! Had she been close enough to eavesdrop on them? Had she been there? Had the pining brat actually published it in hopes of getting him back? A cold chill went through him at the thought, and suddenly all the hostility made sense.

“I was really mad at first, because I thought only a class ‘A’ jerk like you would talk about me like that –like I was just some little toy. Now I just don’t care. I spent way too long caring. If you’re done, I’d like to go home.” The cold wind tugged at her unrelenting form, almost the same way his eyes ran over her longingly. He felt like the wind, begging and pleading for something he could never have.

She turned to go, arms dropping down to her sides as she went. The hollow click of heels against concrete broke the burgeoning silence in a steady rhythm. Each little tap felt like a nail in the coffin, and each gust of wind sputtered against the dying ember of hope flickering in his chest. It was the loneliest time of his life that he could remember, even more so than waking half dead in a hospital bed with no memory at all. And he was alone again…just like always. And he always would be without her. So alone…

“Wait!” he called, desperate to stop the sudden sense of helplessness drowning his soul. She paused, barely turning her head at all to show she’d heard him. It was enough to see the faint glimmer of tears running down her face, and enough to prove he could still make things right. She was as hurt as he was, and even if it took forever he’d make it up to her. “Moon, please don’t go.”

God, he sounded so pitiful. But he didn’t care, as long as she turned to him, came back. Tears stung the backs of his eyes for the first time in…forever. For once he was glad to be wearing this ridiculous domino mask, because it hurt like hell to watch her walk away from him.

“Please.” He forced his voice to steady though it took more effort than he would have liked. “I would do anything for you.”

She reached up to wipe at the streaks on her face with one hand, he watched her take a steady breath. The moment stretched on forever between them before she turned to him again. The moonlight glittered across her tear-stained face and trembling mouth, and reignited what little hope he had left.

“Mamoru-kun, the day you can look the real me in the face and say that, we’ll talk. Until then, don’t count on it.”

A smile split across his face a moment later, the cloud of despair ripped from him as he came forward quickly to grip her shoulders. He could have kissed her! Of course, considering how things were between them right now, that probably wasn’t the best idea. It didn’t stop the warm grin plastered to his face –but then, he didn’t think anything could.

“Consider it done.”


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Usagi stumbled down the temple steps in complete confusion and doubt. It had been a hard Senshi meeting, called for the specific purpose of talking about her and Kamen’s little jaunt through the college gardens that night. The girls had not been happy about her running off with the masked vigilante, and nothing could persuade them that she hadn’t been committing treason. Maybe that was some of her confusion, she wondered, maybe that was the upsetting fact. Maybe it was the strange difference between what others saw, and what the Senshi saw. Two entirely different beings existed in the same person: one, the embodiment of all things good and courageous and right, the other, a pitiful little nobody that couldn’t even gain the respect of her friends anymore.

God, it hurt –she hurt. Everywhere. Her arms ached and throbbed with the effort it took to hold them steady against her face, her legs burned and her chest felt constricted. The crows screamed and shrieked in the distance, the cooling air tugged at her uniform in playful abandon. Unlike any other day, though, she didn’t have the heart to pay attention. The past few months had been a wild ride, to be sure, but last night really took the cake.

It was all from the training. The heady weightlessness that accompanied each exercise period could last hours. Thankfully, she had more than given up any hope of getting through school now, so she could just lie in bed and let the world spin around her. It was disembodying. Nausea and fatigue felt like constant companions, but she didn’t dare stop. She didn’t dare let go of this one thing that she could do.   
Her face buried itself behind pale, shaking hands in frustration. The scent of wood and spring and grass was dying in the breeze –a sure sign that summer would soon be joining it yet again. She stifled a sob, forcing herself to breathe. Summer was leaving her, as well as any sense of hope.

The thought was a hollow thud somewhere near her heart as she walked. Grey cement peppered with shoes swam in and out of her vision, still unnoticed by the young girl. It was a sad whispering of fading summer air tugging at her pigtails, the dying sun caressing her back in forlorn sorrow. Come play, they begged her, but she couldn’t listen now. She wasn’t a child anymore; she had to accept that fact. But that left her in a strange place, a lost mid-road between adult and juvenile; awkward and confused about everything.

And that was why she hated Sailor Moon. Hate itself was a strong word, and not one that she would use lightly. She hated Moon, just as she hated Mamoru. It was that undecided, in-between-ness that could not be ok. She could not help being a hero, and she could not help loving a man who despised her. God, when did it all get so complicated? Moon was everything anyone wanted to see (except for maybe the other Senshi) and garnered trust and respect and awe wherever she went. She was strong and brave and had won the love of even him, of all people. What was Usagi compared to that?

But that hate drove her onward. She knew now more than ever that it was her only chance at honor. No school would allow her to pass with that, no family member would look at her as they did at Moon, no city would ever be grateful for the presence of the young school girl-the same as any other failing, ridiculous, helpless girl out there. But for Moon –now there was something everyone could enjoy. There was something worth fighting for. 

So she trained. It was loveless and ugly and hard. It made her bones want to scream in agony sometimes. It made her bleed and cry and break in every way she could name, and it had only been happening for a month now. God, a month of pure hell. Too many times, she’d gone home horribly sick to her stomach and barely made it to her room before collapsing. Did the others know? Did they care? She had no idea.  
All she knew now, maybe all she would ever know, was that it wasn’t enough. She would have to push herself harder than ever before. She would have to be stronger than they wanted, better than they wanted. She had to prove to all of them that Moon wasn’t just some ghostly hero that haunted the streets and ensured everyone’s perfect protection. She wanted to show them all that Usagi was not just some weakling who would take their insults, their jabs, or their adoration just because she happened to be wearing a tiara.

It would take so much more. Her chest hurt abominably at the thought of just how much. It would take a sacrifice greater than any she had ever given. Usagi herself would never be the hero, and so must be swept away for the greater good. When all was said and done only Moon would remain. She would be a cold, distant savior who worked for the common good, who destroyed all in her path, and who did not care for the love of a man who could ruin her in turn. She would not be weak. She would not be taken lightly.

“Oh God,” she moaned, hugging at her middle and shaking her head in disbelief, “I watch too many cartoons!”

Still, there was much to be done. She’d gone willingly with him last night, and that had been terribly weak of her. She’d listened to his rant even after reading that horrible article in the newsletter at Rei’s the day before. She’d struck a deal with the Devil himself that would only end in a giant mess on both sides. She’d been accused of treason by the Senshi, had been put on suspension by Luna, and was soon to be grounded for a failed Japanese test. Too many stupid mistakes, and just like her to do all of them! Her teacher had probably already called the house, Luna would be making sure she didn’t disappear, and Mamoru would….

Oh God, Mamoru would…. That had been the stupidest mistake of all. Chiba Mamoru was known for being the most intelligent man ever to grace Azubu Tech, and probably a whole slew of other prestigious schools as well. He’d be an idiot not to find her in a heartbeat now that she’d challenged him.   
She hadn’t even meant it like that. She’d just wanted to point out…

Gah, none of that mattered now. She had to stay away from him at all costs, had to muck up the lines and hide her trail as best she could. The suspension would help a little. It would keep her out of the majority of each fight, and in that case, out of eyesight a little longer. If only she knew what brought him there, what it was that let him know something was happening; she could at least focus on one thing at a time.  
Almost home now. The wind was still tugging at her hair and skirt; pushing her school uniform against her skin and outlining the scrawny form beneath. She didn’t want to see her mom’s face, or hear what she had to say. Once the rest of the Senshi meeting was over, Luna would be next in line. Soft golden eyebrows bunched together in consternation. None of this would stop her from getting sent to bed with a measly scrap of toast and some soup.

The thought made the ground turn to liquid beneath her toes.  
.  
.  
………………….

Mamoru wandered the city streets agitatedly, his mind churning over and over as the bustling scenes passed by. He’d spent the two days since that night in the college gardens compiling a list of possible names. Understandably it was incomplete, the shear number of girls he’d turned down over the last year and a half had been…enlightening. The glamour of the Senshi was so complete he was fairly sure he wouldn’t recognize her even if he did catch up (otherwise he already would have). This didn’t stop him from hypothesizing, though. The transformation phase could change anything about physical appearance, so he’d included all shapes and sizes. It was a different thing entirely when they came one or two at a time –he hadn’t realized how many it had been since meeting the blond.

Once the list had been made, he’d written down the few things he knew of her. She was klutzy, good natured, sweet, and strong; which led to another possible list of hangouts. She probably worked out, that meant the gym, and also probably hung around the commons when not in class. Therefore, he’d gone to the gym first today, just to see who all was there. Needless to say, Itsumori, Natasha, and Yoshi were the first to be crossed off. Too graceful, too weak, or too strong it seemed. He’d noted it in his little book. Not to mention Itsumori was in a women’s weight lifting competition, and Natasha spoke with a ridiculous American accent. Yoshi was probably just there for the boys.

One hand slashed through his windswept hair in shame and frustration. It didn’t matter, though, the black fringe was unkempt and his clothes were rumpled and uneven. So intent he was to leave the gym behind, he hadn’t bothered with his usual once-over before heading out the door. It was only the beginning of things left undone.

Even now, his books were abandoned haphazardly all over the apartment, his management homework unfinished. Food lay molding in the bottom of his fridge as he’d never allowed it to do before. He spent so much time worrying about that damn list that nothing else seemed to take any precedent at all. God, his homework, his job, his college career were going to be wrecked by some girl! Some ridiculous, wonderful, girl with eyes like soft blue stones and hair the color of perfect fairy-tale gold; she’d drive him mad.

The thought agonized him. If all that gorgeous hair went to waste in the transformation phase, he’d flat out cry. All clichés aside, it was true. God, what her eyes did to him…and the thought of touching her hair…

“Miss, miss! Are you alright?” the startled cry broke through his thoughts as he turned curiously. Across the street, people were fumbling awkwardly around someone as they slunk to the cement, neatly knocking into three or four people as they went. A businessman knelt down beside the fallen body, furthering Mamoru’s interest. His curiosity piqued, he turned fully to the commotion and froze the moment a golden handful of shimmering hair glinted in the sunlight. Impossibly golden…something from a fairytale…

Another moment and he was sprinting across the street, heart pounding in agony at the thought of her…Sailor Moon…. The screeching tires and blaring horns meant nothing to him as he raced across traffic. Blood swished angrily in his ears, hoarse breaths tore at his chest. If she were hurt, if anything had happened to her…. The bus stop bench blocked his view irritatingly well as he dodged around cars and people in an effort to reach her side. Nothing else mattered –nothing but her.

“Miss! Somebody call an ambulance! You!” The older man came into view first, along with a full view of the telling long blond hair. A moment later and the bench slid aside. He sucked in a surprised breath, afraid to say anything then. The noise continued as people bustled around in panic and confusion, but none of it made any sense.  
Sprawled across the deadly white cement lay a form he knew only too well. Golden hair clung to the ground like sticky fingers, navy blue skirt flapped in the breeze. The pounding, rushing sound of water ebbed. Each breath slowed and stilled within him as realization struck home. God, he was a fool.

“Odango, you amaze me.” He muttered quietly, turning to leave the blond to her joy ride in the ambulance. She’d have one hell of a headache when she woke up, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone after an embarrassing face-plant like that. She’d be completely humiliated when she woke up. The thought caused a wry grin to break the somber lines of his face. He was a fool too, thinking that Moon would actually be in trouble on the streets. The woman took on demons from another world almost nightly.  
And well, he had other things to think about. Moon, for instance, or that damn homework that had been hanging around his apartment for weeks without a second glance. There could be a way to divide the list of names up in a logical order depending on personality traits. But then, if he wanted to spend all that time figuring out rankings according to that, it could take months and he still had that homework. But homework took away from the most important things, like figuring out who Moon was!

“Excuse me, sir!” someone called, breaking his troubled, and somewhat circular, train of thought. He turned back again, noting the curious gaze the business man dealt him from the ground. He cleared his throat pensively, looking back and forth between them before he spoke again. “Do you know her? Could you…help us out a little?”

“Uh, I guess.” Mamoru awkwardly raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. He didn’t really want to be mixed up in Odango’s affairs at all, and this guy didn’t seem to catch the drift. “Her brother works at Crown, you could probably take her there instead of the ambulance. She hates hospitals.” Where…had that come from? Random. Well, Crown was close, and the older man looked perfectly capable of either carrying or finding someone else to carry her.

“That might be a bad idea-unless this kind of thing happens often?”

This time, he really did chuckle.

“Whatever. Knowing her, she probably drank too many milkshakes and not enough water.” Too caught up in his own amusement at the comment, he didn’t bother to note the apparent disgust running through the small group.

“Bastard.” Someone spat from his left, forcing the grin to slide from his face.

“Well, look. I’m going to be late for a meeting if I don’t get going, and you don’t look like you’re headed anywhere important.” The business man checked his watch quickly. “Why don’t you take her to her brother’s or call someone or something. At least you know her.”

And that was how he found himself hauling around the little shrimp like some creepy knight in shining armor. God, if anyone saw this he’d have that on his plate too! Damn idiot, making him feel guilty just because he knew her name! He was wasting valuable time over something that she could have easily avoided had she had some semblance of a brain rattling around underneath all that blond hair. Well, he should know better than to expect anything from the short spitfire other than whining, wailing, and any other immature tantrums. Including this.

He sighed, shifting her weight more out of irritation than discomfort. She wasn’t terribly heavy, and like his thought earlier, it was nice and cool out. It was just stupid to waste a good hour of his time getting her to the Crown and making sure Motoki knew about it. His friend would not be happy, especially if he ever found out Mamoru had tried to leave her to her fate on the street. The blond was really over protective, and frankly, illogical. Left to her own devices, the Odango would probably learn a hell of a lot more about the facts of life. Too many people meddling in things, saving her when she should be strong on her own two feet -the whole situation caused things like this. It was a whole lot of trouble that could have been avoided.

Of course, if he hadn’t come running the second he saw a spot of gold, he could have continued on his little walk without any interruption either. Damn kid, making him think of Moon. The irritations just didn’t seem to end today. Of course, he’d known that was going to be the case when he woke up to a pot of fresh coffee…with the grinds from yesterday. Then there’d been the spoiled eggs in his fridge, the laundry overflowing in his bedroom, the textbooks littering his living room like a battle field, and the wall of suspects that still had no foreseeable end in sight.

So Odango was just a fun little continuation of a bad-day-gone worse. Joy. He shot her sleeping form an irritated glance, wishing someone she knew would walk by now that they were getting closer to her favorite hangout. Instead, he was sure he spotted at least one fan eyeing him curiously from across the street. His mouth tightened into a firm, angry line. Too late to go back now.

“Oi! Motoki-kun!” The arcade doors had barely parted before he started calling for the tall blond man. The faster he got rid of her, the better. God, he was never going to live it down! Knowing his luck, someone probably snapped a picture of it for that stupid publication. Curses flew through his mind in rapid succession, but his eyes were focused on the worker currently hunching over a videogame in the back.

“What’s up, Mamor-Usagi-chan! Oh my GOD! Is she ok, what happened! Bring her back, Unazuki! Come upfront! Now!”

He all but tripped his way to the back room, obvious panic breaking the usual smoothness of his motions. The shy redhead glanced out curiously from the break room, green eyes taking in the small bundle hanging limply from Mamoru’s arms. Like her brother, he noted, her reaction was horrified instead of mocking. God, what a weird family. Must be something in their genes. Come to think of it, everyone was freaking out about this way more than they should be –it was just the Odango, and she probably did stupid shit like this all the time.   
Goddamn kid, always screwing things up. She always did that.

“I’ll get it!” her rushed answer barely broke his thoughts as he pushed by her. Motoki flung boxes from the broken booth seat in wild abandon before turning to take her small body from the uncaring embrace of his best friend.

The gentle concern bothered him, and he hated Motoki’s focus. God, all of this just because –god, he’d said it a million times now. Thought it, at least…stupid blond. He always felt so…turned around when she was there. It was probably her ridiculous personality clashing against his or something –made him…illogical. A sneer broke across his face as soda exchanged hands and Motoki’s gentle hands were holding her steady to tip the glass against her mouth. He couldn’t watch anymore. Irritated the hell out of him.

He didn’t bother to glance back as the door closed swiftly behind him. Better to leave her to her ‘older brother’ than stand around being pissed and accomplishing nothing.

At least that crossed one name off his list for good. Moon would never be so pathetic –or so young.  
.  
.  
…………………………….

Usagi had sat in the shadowed back room for nearly 2 whole minutes without understanding what had happened. One moment, she’d been rushing through the streets of Tokyo on her way from a training session, and the next Motoki was ordering her to eat a huge pile of fries. She must be losing her mind. Of course, she had no idea how many times that exact thought had crossed her mind in the past few months. It seemed there was no room for anything else there anymore.

It was nice back here, no one around. The fries tasted old and chalky, the soda flat and watered down. She hurt. Oh god, she hurt. Every bone and joint ached with movement and every time she bothered to think about training, tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. The pressure choked her now, the hours and hours she’d spent kicking her butt on the field to even get a smidge better and still she had nothing to show for it. There was nothing, at least, but the slow ache leaking from her marrow, and from her skull like oozing tears.  
It didn’t take much from there to figure out what had happened. Breath hissed from between her clenched teeth as she forced each leg to move. What a moron she could be –and how careless.

“Usa-chan?” Fire raced across her as she jumped, thoughts jumbling together at the creak of the door behind her. Her neck began to crane toward the visitor, but it was too much. Tears rolled down her face, untouched by the leaden hands at her sides. Oh, how could she hurt so much?

Gentle, nearly indiscernible footsteps swished across the cold cement floor. Even when in nurturing mode though, Usagi could feel the heat, the barely contained fire brewing within her friend and fellow Senshi. She wondered if all of them were like that –the human form of their powers. Glittering violet eyes, smoldering, flickering black hair, quick and agile movements; the fire Senshi came forward into her line of sight like an unseen explosion. One word could light the path ahead in painful clarity, or turn any hope into cinders. If she were capable of it, Usagi might have disliked Hino Rei for her inherent command of power. It wasn’t because she was jealous, because who would want to be the leader of such a group, but that she feared being torn apart by someone she loved. Again.

“Motoki-kun called. You ok?” For the first time ever, Usagi noticed a hint of something new in her friend. It was a feeling she herself had felt almost constantly since this whole thing started, but Rei had always been on the front line without a single hesitance. But it was that exact thing staring her in the face then. “I brought a few things; he said you’d probably be sore…”

“Rei-chan…” Usagi began, wishing she could at least stop the tears from flowing. She felt so pathetic and weak when compared to the other girl.

“Ibuprofen, aspirin cream, and chamomile tea. Now lean forward and I’ll rub her neck down for you.”

“I’m so sorry,” The blond began, whimpering at the touch of cold cream against skin. Rei moved with precision and purpose, spreading the cooling liquid gently until the tingle covered her arms and back. 

“Hush, Usagi-chan. You should have told us you had blood sugar problems. And I’m sure all the working out and not eating right didn’t help any of that.” Obediently, even meekly, the patient sat with quiet thoughts as Rei spoke. “Still, the fact that you’ve been working so hard is very impressive.”

“Arigato.”

“Still, something needs to be done so you don’t hurt yourself.” The ibuprofen was starting to take effect now, cooling the screeching nerves and dimming the blinding pain from the forefront.

“Hai.”

“No unnecessary risks.” The darkness of the room returned on gentle, bearable feet. Her arms were light and cool.

“We love you, Usagi. Don’t forget that.” She couldn’t help but smile.

“…hai.”  
.  
.  
…………………………

The weighted chain whipped through the air like a glittering serpent’s tongue. Blood tinged the cold, grey metal weight welded firmly to the tip; fresh streams showered their gory bounty across the stone cold earth. The cool autumn air shivered in the wake of a maniac laugh, Mars bound away from the deadly weapon, though it grazed her already wounded arm in the process. The newest member of the team was raging across the field, energy crackling and arching between her fingers. Mercury blasted the area with a freezing mist, but her voice was harsh and tired with the effort it took to cast it. They all had put up the best fight possible, but it was obvious all three were in over their heads.

It was cold out. Mid-autumn air burned slightly on the edges of his ears as he watched over the fight silently. An appropriate time of year, no matter who you were, even the Dark Kingdom couldn’t have evaded the much glorified holiday. Why it had chosen this particular Youma remained a mystery, as one could assume that a simple energy gathering mission would have had greater success during the frantic dash and grab feel racing through the city. Ah, but well, he’d never expected them to think so far in advance.

His form was easily hidden behind nude branches of a nearly-bare tree. He had always assumed the uniform was meant for show alone, but to find it had certain concealment capabilities had come as a pleasant surprise; especially in moments like this. Masked eyes searched the grounds, once more taking in the struggling warriors and grudgingly admitting they weren’t half bad against the possessed samurai steadily hacking at their defenses. Other than the present Senshi, it would appear the battlefield was empty. Had he been any other man, he would have assumed that Moon wouldn’t grace them with her presence tonight.  
He was not any other man, however, and she was already here. His hot little obsession had taken to stepping in at the last minute to finish off what the others left behind in a ridiculous attempt to avoid him. A low growl built up in the back of Kamen’s throat, though he didn’t give in to it. She was proving to be disturbingly clever behind that happy-go-lucky façade. He hadn’t planned for all of this to happen when he approached her 3 months ago. She was supposed to just grin, say yes, maybe give him a nice, long kiss… not challenge him to some demented mind game. The worst part about it was the fact she seemed to be thinking three steps ahead of him, making it impossible to pick her out of the hordes. The little brat was toying with him, and he didn’t like that feeling at all.

She hadn’t transformed yet. The only reason he’d known about the battle in time to witness it was due to a misspent night out with the boys. He’d had to beg pardons from Newton and Einstein when the first fireball had hit close enough to stir his coffee for him. The librarians had ushered everyone toward the offices in back while Mamoru slipped out the window inconspicuously. The following explosions had lasted a good thirty-five minutes now, and the beast showed no signs of slowing. Moon would be forced to show herself, and he was biding his time until she did.

That is, for another 50 minutes or so. Motoki had sworn on the deathbed of his ancestors (strange, given the ‘burial’ ceremony of the island) that Mamoru would attend at least one party this year. It had never before been much of an issue. He was disturbingly sure it was due to his wild confession to the press.

The wispy katana slithered through the air, aimed to neatly sever Mercury’s head free; however, the meek genius proved herself adequately limber as she dodged back, bending herself nearly in half to avoid the hissing blade above her. The act of evasion was maybe less effective as the arch changed to strike across her abdomen and sent her spinning into the hard-packed earth. The other two leapt to her aid as the pain-filled shriek filled the glen.

This particular Youma was ranked an assassin, simply because it held no particular gathering capabilities and seemed to be designed specifically to defend against their powers. The only one doing any actual damage was Jupiter, her lightning manipulation skills too fresh to be understood by the enemy. Kamen had only seen her twice in the past several months, and he was sure she had only been inducted a few weeks ago. Mars and Mercury had been with Moon for so long that he’d been half convinced that they were the only other Senshi out there. At Jupiter’s appearance, he wondered curiously if there were an entire solar system’s worth down to Neptune.

Another heavy flash of green and thunder boomed across the dying grass, returning his thoughts to the fight before him. Jupiter was holding her own against the Samurai as Mars drug Mercury aside to tend to her sword cut. Given the amount of red dying her white fuku, Kamen realized it could be a fairly dangerous wound. Back when he’d declared pre-med, he would have been completely distracted in diagnosing the thing long distance to test his skills. That would have been stupid anyway.

The familiar rush of adrenaline rippling through his chest painfully broke this train of thought and he straitened instinctively. The white hot tiara arched across the grounds a little to his left before she emerged from the trees. His heartbeat thundered excitedly in his chest at the sight of her familiar curves. She looked even better than he remembered her for some reason. The moonlight seemed even more definitive across her body as she leapt forward sans the usual speech.

The tiara connected against the Youma’s sword hand, returning to the short blond as an agonized screech rumbled in its wake. She moved faster, hit harder and basically seemed more on top of her game than he’d seen before. Of course, after watching the slow, exhausted moves of the other three, anyone would look amazing. Moon herself wasn’t exactly the greatest fighter; he realized that and freely admitted it. However, the show proved to be impressive despite the fact. 

She jumped, flying roundhouse, shocking even Kamen, as it slammed heavily into the monster’s head and sent it sprawling into the dirt. He hadn’t even realized Moon could land a hit like that! It was something he’d have to ask her when he cornered her after the fight. She dove forward, avoiding the Chinese stars with effortless grace and landed a left hook right into the jaw, once again knocking her opponent back.   
The astonished whistle was cut short as classic Moon got her foot caught on something and nose-dived into the grass. He couldn’t help the resulting chuckle. She was just too adorable. How in the hell had he made it so long without seeing her? The samurai whooped triumphantly, aiming his sword for the death blow and signaling Kamen’s heroic entrance.

This was the fun part, he thought as he rocked forward. The cane slid neatly from his subspace pocket, following two blood red roses. The tiny missiles landed with perfect accuracy, slicing both across the sword arm and the quickly descending tip to deflect the blow. A quick howl and a shot of blood later, Kamen landed in a perfect crouch, cane whipping upward to swipe away the errant blade before the creature could regain its momentum. Switching hands, he shot forward, landing the end neatly in its stomach and launching the beast into the air. 

His second concern was Moon, though by the time he’d knocked the wind out of it, she’d found her footing again. She looped around him, barely a rustle of clothing, before landing a heavy axe kick directly into its neck. The thing howled in pain, limbs churning in the cold air.

“Moon! Duck!” Jupiter’s gruff voice boomed across the space between them. Kamen leapt forward at the command, knowing if he had bothered to search for it, the answering reflex would have been too late. Suddenly, the world was filled with Moon and earth. His movement was none too soon as, above the prone couple; glittering throwing knives slithered in the crackling autumn air.

“You know, you don’t have to stiffen up on my account.” Kamen muttered to the bundle of gold in his arms. His rib cackled in pain a moment later and she rolled away from him in a huff.

“Perv!” He was still trying not to laugh when she called over one shoulder and ran back to join the fight.

“Supreme Thunder!” The glade boomed loud enough to make his ears pop. The deaf monotone drowned a bone-rattling crack as sturdy wood gave way. Ominously looming branches quickly became crushing talons as he leapt forward with all his strength. Hopefully it would be enough to not just clear the distance of the trunk, but knock Moon away too.

The weight quickly bore the hero to his knees, another branch delivering a solid thump alongside the skull as he fell. Fluttering lights scrawled across both eyes before chin met earth with a resolute smack. And, as always in such comical situations, a few stray leaves drifted aimlessly down to settle on his already aching head.

“Well, I guess that takes care of the Youma.” Jupiter muttered with some sense of humor above him. It hurt, yet the man couldn’t help but risk a glance back toward the hulking figure. The twisted branches flailed around him like a spider’s web, some of the larger bits holding on by sap and willpower alone. There, skewered like Youma-kabob, lay the assassin; a large, dead tree branch protruding from its stomach. 

“Good thinking, hitting it with the tree like that, Jupiter. Obviously wood was its weakness.” He glanced around, noting the others closing in him. It was surprising to note that the fire senshi may have touched a smidge of the sarcastic with that comment. Mercury was clutching at her stomach in pain, clinging to Mars’ side to make it across the glen.

“Erm, right!” the Amazonian warrior answered not a moment later. Did Mars just roll her eyes and huff? 

“Are you alright?” Moon asked quietly. He twisted his head, hardly believing the luck of it all.

“Damn, I was kinda hoping it’d pin both of us down.” Moon went red in embarrassment and glanced around at the other Senshi. Mars snorted.

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Carefully, she shifted the blue Senshi as her head lolled to the side. “I’ve got to get her home and cleaned up, Moon. Come with me.” 

“Weird night.” He muttered, mostly to himself. Why had he said that out loud? And why did his head have to hurt so much? 

“He’s hit his head though. Should we at least lift the tree off of him?” Moon asked quietly to the other two. She lifted Mercury’s other arm around her shoulder to help carry the weight as she spoke, careful not to jostle the injured girl.

“Ouch.” He answered calmly. Jupiter sighed.

“I’ve got it.”

.  
.  
…………………….

And they’d left him there.

30 minutes later, he was still laying there in the grass staring up at the sky. His legs were sore, his head ached, and the Senshi of all people in the world, had left him there. Any other moment in his life, he’d probably be bitter about that. But since none of them knew who he was, and since he assumed they knew about his healing, it probably made logical sense. Still. The Senshi; the apparent protectors of this world and the future and other…really important things- and they’d just left him there, laying on the ground. It would take another 20 minutes before he pushed himself up enough to survey the damage.

The tree had all but wreaked havoc. He’d been lucky to land where the branches thinned. The Youma, obviously, had not been so. The shear amount of weight punching through armor and bone was terrifying. Had he been under there, it wouldn’t have just pinned straight through him, it would have married him to the grass.

Shaken, barely standing upright, he hobbled across the field and toward the library’s dark shadow. It could have been him. In the back of his mind, somewhere deep in his chest that weight crushed and ground and scraped. They might have left him there, but at least it didn’t leave him dead.

He needed some coffee.

It was a busy night out on the streets. Children and parents alike had begun the famous trek for candy. He passed millions of hobgoblins, comic book characters, and Senshi on the way. The chill wind tore at his face and cape, and subtly pointed out that he’d lost his hat somewhere back there. He cursed a little under his breath. It wasn’t that it wouldn’t come back at the next transformation, it was just…messy business leaving bits of your secret identity around town. Never know when some random crime scene investigator might get smart with the DNA testing.

Once the monument of the apartment building came into view, Mamoru cursed again. He’d promised to meet Motoki tonight to go to some ridiculous party. He’d even got candy. Why? Because….well…because he had. Right. Pot luck, and he didn’t have time to cook. It was a good thing. He’d have to open the door for trick or treaters before the blond got there, and no screaming mob of children was going to invade the place due to lack of sugar and chocolate.

Of course, knowing his luck, Motoki had already been there and left, which was fine too. It didn’t stop him from retransforming on the balcony to cover for any tears done by the branches to his uniform. Already, the door thumped like a heartbeat, loud enough to permeate the sliding glass door.

Kamen barely had time to slip in and cross the room before another round of pounding began on the door. He flung his hat toward the couch, slipped off the mask and deftly grabbed the pair of vampire teeth from the entryway table. His hands closed over both the doorknob and the candy bowl at the same time before the bright light of the hallway shattered the darkness around him.

He blinked, carefully gaining control of his jaw at the sexy picture that greeted him. Four girls, each in completely different costumes stared back confusedly. Apparently none of them were members of his fan club, because every single one of those girls knew his address. These seemed to recognize him the moment the wood slid back. It also revealed the fact that not all girls throw on a pair of animal ears and corsetry. These had obviously put a lot of thought into what they were wearing.

A tall, chestnut-haired Disney princess stood there first, looking like she’d just stepped out of a childrens movie in butter colored satin. Someone had taken a long time to pull her hair back just right, half up in a gentle knot that left the rest of her hair falling in soft curls. Honey brown eyes were lined 2-d fashion in soft brown, and eyebrows to match. The attempt at real life cartoon was pretty convincing.

“Trick or treat!” both she and the spiky blue-haired Amazon called girlishly. He held out the bowel silently, looking over the much shorter companion in front. Her pixie-cut blue hair had been spiked straight up, and held there by an intricate wooden crown that stretched from the corner of her left eye and braided back. Her outfit was blue and black, strapped anywhere one could fit it, and complimented by a bow strung across one shoulder and a staff. Ancient looking tattoos etched the skin of her face down the opposite side, and fell down both arm and leg anywhere visible. Her costume had to be the best one he’d seen tonight, even if he had known her before, there was no telling who was beneath all of that makeup and hair gel.

The third, for all fit and flair wore a hot little white nurse getup, complete with stethoscope and clipboard. Shiny black tresses had been pulled back into a loose bun, playfully tousled to look sexy. He was fairly sure she was supposed to be an anime character, as her face had been chalked out then redrawn in blacks and reds. Her eyes were blue-green, and obviously contacts. 

The last was short, yes, but her silvery-blond hair came up just below his chin thanks to the lace-up stiletto boots wrapped around her feet. She wore a slayer costume, complete with popped-collar black jacket, corset, and fishnets to show off lean, muscular legs. He felt his mouth go dry just looking at her, admiring the waterfall of silver-enhanced blond hair that hung in a loose sheet across her back. For some reason, he couldn’t stop staring.

By the time he’d eyed each of them, they’d grabbed they’re goodies and sang a thanks in unison. He nodded in return, but his eyes were still locked onto the slayer. Shy little thing, wasn’t she? Violent purple eyes stared fixedly at the ground as the group turned to troupe away down the hallway to the next door. The hallway lights turned her hair into liquid silver as she walked.

“Trick or treat!” shrill little voices broke his revere, a reminder of everyone else in the hallway. 

“Yeah.” He returned, lowering the bowel for a muskrat, and other…creatures. Greedy little hands nearly knocked the candy out of his hand. A few tired parents smiled a thanks before the next group came through. How monotonous.

“Oi! Mamoru-kun!” Motoki’s head poked out of the crowd. “Have you seen the girls yet? I saw them walk in before me.”

“The girls?” His friend scanned faces in the crowd for a moment before lighting up in delight.

“Ohiyo! Usagi-chan! Rei-chan!” He chirped, raising a black arm to someone in the crowd. Usagi, ne? What did she dress up as? A Disney princess? A teacup? Someone’s stuffed teddy bear complete with bowtie? He turned just in time to see a wisp of blond hair disappear behind a corner. It hadn’t even looked the right shade. “Mamoru-kun, are you seriously count Dracula? What’s with the collar?”  
He scoffed, turning back to his friend rather than stare off down the hall in search of the girl. Motoki was wearing…a black leotard. Head to toe. With little…smiley suns on his cheeks. And yellow flip flops.

“It’s authentic looking. At least I’m not a giant foam sun in a leotard.”


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The soft click of metal brushed fingers along the quiet hall. Light beat a short path across beige carpet, a footstep of reality into the blackness beyond. A white glove pressed firmly against heavy wood, the sound muffled as neatly as a bagged corpse. Ruckus from the streets filtered through closed windows, and slunk across the carpet in whispers. Demons slithered from every corner in the form of shifting shadows, the wind howled angrily at the night sky. Velvet blackness beckoned beyond the small room, marked the edge of that reality into the abyss.

The white glove lifted but a moment before landing with a dull thud against wood again. This time, it left a dent.

Why; why had he not asked her name! He’d been so content to stare, so blessedly brainless in the moment of truth. She’d been the only thought in his head for nearly three hours, and he hadn’t said one damn word to the girl! She’d just stood there and stared at the ground and walked away, and he’d just let her!

No wonder Moon thought he was a damn fool, because he was! It was her standing right there on his doorstep, eating his treats, and just damn well existing in his presence and he just stood there! Really?! Was he insane?!

No one, he repeated the thought again, no one had even caught his eye in over a year! Because of Moon, and her amazing, ridiculous, gorgeous, amazing (he might be repeating himself a bit) self had blinded him from anything and anyone else. Yet he’d spoken to her before at some point, so why hadn’t she had the same effect on him then? What the hell had changed? Why the HELL had it changed without PERMISSION!?

He gave the door another thump, just in case it got any ideas, before turning toward the living room. The vampire teeth were thrown carelessly onto the front table, shoes clacking against marble floor as he went. He drew a deep breath, releasing the transformation as he walked. Petals blurred the world just a moment before he slid onto the couch in frustrated silence.

She’d been standing right there. And she was hot.

He could retrace everything about her costume as if he’d spent hours staring at her instead of a few moments; the fishnets crisscrossing her thighs, the corset showing off the tiny waist and rounded hips. Great boobs, wow she had great boobs. He could write a whole damn sonnet on them. Hell, he could probably write his whole senior thesis on them

That…might have been a bit of a ridiculous idea; but it was a good one anyway.

He leaned forward, rubbing gently at the back of his neck as he did. It was still sore where the tree had smacked him, but the psychometry was doing well without his concentration. It was also a stroke of accidental genius that made him keep his battle tux on tonight, as it tended to speed the process. Had he thought about it, he would have made up some dumb excuse to wear it during that broken nose business last summer. Love was kind of a bitch. Probably why he’d never bothered with it before.

Interesting, that no one had ever had a problem seeing him as Mamoru when he wanted them to. After all, everyone had said his vampire costume was convincing, not a word was mentioned about Tuxedo Kamen. He wondered briefly if Moon had ever had that sort of situation. Of course, the only thing she could really double as in that outfit was a cheerleader or a stripper. Hopefully, there was less call for the second.

“Just hold up one damn minute!” he muttered forcefully, all but jumping from the couch in his rush to reason. If people could recognize him as Chiba Mamoru while still in costume, why couldn’t they recognize him as Tuxedo Kamen at the same time? What was it about his costume that kept others from figuring out who he was? Why had he not thought about the henshin magic earlier?

There was only one thing to do under these circumstances, and it involved bringing out ‘the Beast’. Calmly, even efficiently, he made his way back into the bedroom and gripped the heavy metal from behind the door. Pulling carefully across the carpet, the monster was set gently in the middle of the living room, lit perfectly from every direction before he withdrew the soft black cover. It slithered pleasingly to the ground, revealing in all its beautiful glory, the Beast.

Motoki could say what he liked, but giant rolling mirrors were pretty damn useful when you model for a living. Or stalk Senshi. Either way it was pretty awesome, even if his blond friend didn’t agree.

He couldn’t help taking of the shirt and flexing a few times, just to try it out. Then, the serious work began.

The fuku could literally change anything about physical appearance, or so he had assumed until now. It hadn’t occurred to him he could actually test that theory. Maybe he wasn’t a Senshi per-say; however he did use a similar transformation to achieve Kamen status. So it had to work on the same basic principles, right?

He would have to be methodical, testing bit by bit to see what the henshin could change about him. He began with the eyes, knowing hers where crystal blue while in uniform. Yet, watching himself transform the mask completely obliterated his eyes, so that became a moot point. He moved on to hair, which also proved negligible as he wore a top hat which made everything look dark anyway.

By the end of the night, his notebook had been demolished with thoughts scribbled down, erased and rewritten, then torn from the binding in frustration. So long as the mask stayed in place, the glamour was complete. Even he did not recognize himself as Mamoru except on an internal level. The outside view became hazy and indistinct the closer he looked. However, his height and weight remained the same no matter what he seemed to do.

The discovery prompted a rewarding cup of coffee, and about 4 more hours of work on list.  
.  
.  
…………………………………….

Mamoru walked quickly down the sidewalk in the early crisp air. A scarf tugged at his throat against the chill November air, the heavy weight of his backpack pressed firmly against him. He glanced once more through the neatly organized leaves of notebook paper as he walked, retracing his steps from the night before. It was important to look the problems directly in the face and systematically pick off the unlikely girls like disease ridden sheep in hard winter.

He had racked his brain all night long, setting the girls by the characteristics of his obsession into four major categories; personality (friendly and self sacrificing, he’d marked beside it), athletic ability (functional, yet not impressive), physical appearance (killer curves, somewhat short) and grace (or lack thereof). All of this had led him to the student directory of the college. He would start with there, and then move down to the junior college and high schools. She was likely to be similar in age, but the height would present a problem. The girls on the island tended to stay medium to short, which meant he had his job cut out for him.

He’d begun with each category marked clearly on the wall, then had filled in the space beneath with names of girls most represented by the characteristics. Many of them could have qualified for 2 or 3 out of 4, which automatically moved them toward the top of the master list. He had narrowed down a few names already, and since the athletic ability was the first, and easiest to start with, he’d begun at the gym.

Hiromi was often referred to as the best tennis player on campus. She was also, currently, first on his list of possible suspects. According to recent internet activity, she frequented this particular gym around 6:45 every morning before class. 

He checked his watch quietly outside the door. It was 6:42, and several minutes before Motoki would get there still. Perfect. His friend would have to get changed before they could begin, giving Mamoru a little bit of time to scope out the scene without being suspicious, not to mention he could test the arm curl machine for Moon’s weight while he was there. 

It was quiet this morning, only a few other people had bothered to get up as early as he did. Thankfully, one of them was Hakaru Hiromi, number 1 with a 67% likelihood of a match. She stood about 5 foot 4 with long, lean limbs and an easygoing smile. Many people would say she was quiet and silly, with a strange sense of humor and no sense of fashion. Everyone tended to like her, despite the fact. She was strong, smart enough, and on occasion had shown a tendency to be less that graceful. They’d made her captain of the tennis team two years running and had been a member of his fan club for 4. 

Luckily for him, by the time he changed and locked the book bag away she was working on pectorals, and the arm curl lay directly to her right. He couldn’t help the answering grin tugging at his mouth. 

“Ohiyo, Hiromi-san.” 

She glanced sideways, a shy smile on her face.

“Ohiyo, Chiba-san.” He bent, glancing at the scales curiously. He’d lifted Moon from danger more times than could be counted, and could roughly guess at the amount of pressure. She had to weigh at least 100 pounds, otherwise she’d be skin and bones. It didn’t account for muscle, but he had plenty of time to tinker this morning.

“How are classes going?” he began, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t remember the last conversation they’d had, it was too far back.

“They’re good. My boyfriend’s a senior in the same field, so he helps a lot.” She stared forward as she spoke, obviously counting reps in her head as she did. He couldn’t help but note the underlying brush off she’d given him. It was something Moon would do, he was sure.

“Oh? What field is that exactly?” this weight was very close, but he had to test on either side of it to be sure.

“Architecture. How about you?” He grimaced, 110 was probably a bit too much. Oh well, training with it would make future rescues all the easier. He kept that weight for this workout at least, and it would help later on with the list.

“Business, and its fine.”

Silence reigned for a few moments. Mamoru racked his brain to something he could manipulate the conversation into. But how much did he honestly know about her interests? Was his Senshi really an architecture nut? It didn’t seem terribly likely, that field was challenging and required a lot of late nights. It was not a good combination with her nocturnal activities.

“Can you believe that?” she muttered, pausing long enough to grab a towel. “I don’t understand what’s going on. 2 years ago, we’d never even heard of these things, and now they’re attacking every few weeks. It creeps me out.”

Confused, wondering eyes fell on the TV mounted on the opposite wall. Someone had stumbled over their battle ground from last night and found one of the weapons it had used. Looked like Mercury’s blood was still on it, but of course the newscaster wouldn’t know that. They hypothesized it had gotten one of the Senshi anyway, since there hadn’t been any hospital admittances related to the fight.

He wondered suddenly if DNA testing was an option in the future. Of course, that would mean samples of all the Senshi so they could differentiate, and even then it wouldn’t tie them down to actual civilians unless they gave samples too. It was another dead end, but at least it hadn’t taken forever to get to.

“Ever been in one of those attacks?” he asked offhand, realizing first that he hadn’t remembered to count reps, and second that his muscles were starting to burn.

“Hai. 8 months ago on the tennis field. I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Senshi weren’t there.”

He tried to remember that attack in particular. At night, he was sure, down in the arena area in the tennis courts. Moon had been trapped in a giant tennis ball when he arrived, bouncing around rather humorously and wailing like a child. They hadn’t had their little spat yet; it would have been almost 2 months prior.

“Did you get to meet any of them?” He did 5 more reps before his arms started to give under the pressure. The pain distracted him, kept him focused on the workout externally. But he watched for any telltale signs of acknowledgment from her. She gave none.

“Hai, Sailor Moon. She helped me up after it was all over. She and Tuxedo Kamen were the only two to show that night. They were probably on a date nearby or something.” Mamoru grunted irritably. “They are such a cute couple.” She smiled as she said it, no hint of bitterness or longing. Interesting, either she was a very good actress, or she really wasn’t the famed superhero.

“Couple, hu? What makes you think they’re even together?” he switched directions, grunting with the effort it took to pull that much weight from behind. Instead of fighting it, he turned and adjusted the weight downward.

 

“Everyone knows they’re dating, come on Chiba-san.” He couldn’t help but grunt noncommittally and continue on. This girl was too emotionally detached from the situation; she seemed to talk about it like a fairytale instead of a heart-crushing reality. Moon’s views were obvious on the subject. Given current answers, he would have to assume Hiromi was not, in fact, the one he was looking for. Not to mention she had almost no bust at all in the workout bra. And she seemed a smidge tall when she stood up.

“Nice talking to you, Chiba-san. Good luck with your future testing.” She was walking away, and he felt no real need to follow.

“Hai, you as well.” The answer was noncommittal, almost automatic as he thought. Was there a way to narrow down a major as well, given hours of operation? Probably not, since the Youma didn’t exactly have timed attacks. But maybe he could move those with a greater workload down a bit in priority, as she would probably not be doing well if she was in one. After all, she wasn’t the most self motivated girl he’d ever met, and was well known to be a crybaby under stress.

It hadn’t worked out as well as he’d hoped, but some part of that must have already known it since he wasn’t particularly heartbroken. Still, he decided, he’d watch her just to be safe. The boyfriend, if he was real, would be the true disqualifier. Moon would never even bother with another guy for how messed up she was about him. That thought brought another tiny smile. Good, no one else was allowed to even touch her.

“I see you were hitting on Hiromi-san.” Shock rippled through him at the sudden appearance of blond hair and mischievous green eyes. The weights dropped automatically as Motoki placed one finger on the side of his nose. “Not interested in superheroes anymore?”

“Motoki-kun.” Mamoru shot him a warning glance before lifting the weights once more.

“Yeah, I’d be looking elsewhere if one of them hit me too. Abusive little buggers.” The blond continued, hardly missing a beat.

“Motoki.” He warned again, trying to focus on anything else. His friend was obviously way too comfortable with the subject.

“You know the really freaky thing is some people actually come back for more after that. It’s like they enjoy pain. Weirdoes.” By now, the evil grin reached ‘world domination’ status. Fists tightened in quiet anger in the face of Loki himself.

“I’m going to punch you.”

Motoki grinned in conquest, knowing he’d hit the mark spot on. 

“We’ll still be besties.”

The affirmation eased tensions, releasing the dark man from his trance. He shook his head, disgusted sometimes with the choice of best friends. Really, who would want to hang out with someone who did nothing but point out the fact you were a fool sometimes?

“You know, I couldn’t help but notice she’s a short klutzy blond.”

-Or someone who could see right through you.

“…I hate you.”  
.  
.  
……………………………….

Weeks passed, cold air grew progressively colder as the seasons changed. Fallen leaves gave way to snow and ice, the wind burned instead of howled and night became crystalline instead of haunting. The days shortened, as they did each year, the sun dimmed low in the heavens. 

The list dwindled and rebuilt itself; names no longer belonged to faces. Every day, it seemed, the numbers shifted, prowled the back of his mind like a starving jaguar ready to strike. No one had the same effect as the slayer from Halloween. To be honest, he’d had to pump himself up for each conversation so far, all for nothing. He was beginning to think her disguise involved men’s clothing.

To top it off, the maddening Senshi had been consistent in holding Moon back to the very last moment, thus spreading his chance of being there thin as tissue paper. Two more rainbow crystals had been unearthed, each side winning one more of the tokens. Both nights, he’d been visited with dreams of the Princess, and both nights it had left him restless and irritable. He was behind; fighting to catch up and yet could not.

Luckily, school work could now be focused on. With the presentation of the list came better time management, which meant he could finally prioritize. It was difficult to get her out of his head still; especially during long study hours. It was functional for now. Not to mention the fact that every single conversation he’d had with each of the girls did nothing but cement them back into the background.

The only problem was overly-concerned professors, who felt they had to take time from his schedule outside of class. Just because it was December and quickly closing in on finals did not mean they had a right to make his life more difficult than they had to. He glanced at the note scribbled hastily across one of his papers before hoisting himself out of the chair. He came down the steps leisurely, flinging his winter coat over one shoulder. Professor Yatsuki was not known to waste words with students, so this meeting had to at least be somewhat important.

“Chiba-san, I have an extra credit assignment for you.” Silvery grey hair bobbed upward just long enough for spectacles to flash before returning downward. Mamoru waited while the last of the papers were shuffled together. “I’ve been asked to teach a special class for youngsters in the area for credit with the local school systems, but I don’t have time for it. I know your grades have been suffering lately, so I thought you might like the chance to get them back up.”

Heavy blue eyes closed, wishing they could roll blatantly. He wanted Mamoru –of all people- to teach a class to youngsters? He couldn’t even stand talking to them for the most part. Just look at him and Odango-brain!

“I have a 3.8 though.”

“Exactly,” the spectacles were fumbled with unsteady hands as the old man nodded, “you’re usually sitting at 4.1 at this point in the semester. I have a reading curriculum set up, and they’ll have to do a few paper assignments as well. Are you interested or not?”

No curriculum to plan out, at least that was something. Of course normally it would be a breeze to dedicate a little bit of time each week teaching underclassmen, but ‘youngsters’ implied kids, so he assumed it wouldn’t exactly be college level reading. He also had the search for Moon to worry about, and that took a good chunk out of his days.

“Can I ask someone to do the grading?” He began, knowing already the answer would be yes. He had to be the best in all his classes, and this semester was not turning out the way he had originally hoped it would. “I don’t currently have time with my workload.”

“Yes, that’s fine. But the final grade will come from you, and you’ll answer to me. I would like a 5 page reflection paper on your view of self, as well as a detailed teaching plan. The course is twelve weeks long, from January to April, one class a week. Your subject is to know one’s self through literature. Set up times with the Juuban school administrator by the end of this week.”

“Hai.”  
.  
.  
……………..

Mamoru was not a happy man on arriving back at his apartment. It looked like his poor, unoffending door had taken quite the beating from those love crazed girls. Stacked nearly to his hip and sprawling four feet in either directed were tons of Christmas presents. Disbelieving navy blue eyes rolled heavenward as he hefted his shoulder pack to the ground and dug in his pants for the keys. Now he was going to have to dig this mess out and he was tired.

Maybe the worst thought of all, though, was the fact that one of them might be from his little minx, which meant he would have to go through every one individually. Groaning, he slammed his head against the dark wood in frustration. WHY did she have to make this so difficult?! Why couldn’t she just be a good little girl and tell him her secret identity? It was only fair, he reasoned to himself, since he’d given his without any objections. 

One hand touched his nose as he winced internally. Well, she had given hers…but that didn’t matter. All he had to do was dig through mountains of worthless trash to find the one present she would get him. There was no doubt in his mind that the very moment he saw whatever it was, he would know exactly whom it was from. Then, in a perfect world, it would be conveniently labeled, he’d chase her down tonight and simply pin the girl to a wall for about…an hour or so. The night or a week wouldn’t be too bad either; he amended with a wicked little chuckle.

Sorting through the mountain took a lot longer that it normally would have. Mamoru was meticulous with his phone book and college directory, marking off the impossibilities, the improbabilities, and the wackoes. The regulars, of course, were always there with their ‘perfect’ gifts which usually consisted of chocolate, replacement jackets for the green one that had mysteriously gone missing a few weeks back, a few interesting looking textbooks, coffee, and an incredibly fancy ballpoint pen.

He carefully filed away all the things he could actually use without being seen (lest by seeing their present in use, said girl would assume he was interested) and tossed everything else in a pile. The jackets and such would be returned for cash, the chocolates would go in his stash by the bed, the coffee in the cupboard, and the pen would never leave the apartment. After all of that was said and done, he turned to the weird presents.

One had been a fruit basket (someone from his health class, as said the card) random strawberry things, which were the most disgusting sweets he’d ever tried, various cds and electronics, and a box filled with lacy underwear.

“That…is just wrong.” He muttered determinedly as the raunchy note was quickly stuffed back in the package and the whole thing tossed into the fireplace. After all of that work and nothing had stood out as something she would get him. He suddenly felt very weak and tired as he slouched against the stone, feeling the heat burn into his face a little. It...it would have been really nice to get something from her… But then, he hadn’t done the same in return had he? 

Sighing in thought and exhaustion, he turned from the roaring flames to fix himself some coffee.

Something glittering silver caught his eye in the moonlight. Despite the bitter cold threatening him from the other side of the crystal barrier, Mamoru reached forward to slide the door open. Chilling December air frosted across his skin as he stepped onto the snow covered patio in curiosity. Across the grey and black sky floated the silvery feathers of snow, so big and fluffy they could almost be confused for pillow stuffing. The low din of city traffic was muffled beneath the soft blanket of ivory, giving a perfect ambiance to the gentle feeling that surged in his chest.

There, laying in all its sweet glory, was a long stemmed white rose perched on the snow coated railing. He was almost afraid to touch the precious object lest through his mortal hands it would vanish or turn to dust beneath his grasp. A happy grin broke the night-long scowl as the tip of his finger brushed against the petals. His heart thrummed once, hard, as he swallowed. That had to be what her lips felt like. Down his fingers trailed, amazed at how unbelievably long the stem was…like her body…. Crisscrossing the curved green shaft lay the jagged daggers of her sharp tongue, and wound between the soft, heart-shaped green leaves a navy blue ribbon. He touched it curiously, wondering at how such a girly gift could make him feel so warm in the cool December night.

As if reaching for her, his fingers wrapped around the crisp emerald stem and he lifted the soft silvery-white head to his lips. Almost as if the flower were her flesh, already cooled by the biting winter cold, he kissed the petals till they warmed and grinned impishly into the night. She was close, maybe watching him through dark blue eyes in the cover of night, maybe to see if he would accept such a wildly inappropriate gift for someone like him. The thought caused his fingers to close slightly tighter around the strong, fresh stem.

I will take you, he thought, I will bring you out of the cold…

With slow, deliberate movements lest she be too far away to notice, he kissed the perfect white head and turned to disappear into the apartment.  
.  
.  
……………………

Two buildings down, there was a heavy clonk of binoculars on stone. She rubbed gingerly at one arm, not entirely sure what she’d done at all. It had come over a long period of time, weeks in fact. She knew she had to get him something, she knew he’d been alone for a long time, and had been searching for her. The idea of the rose had been a bit of a surprise; almost as if she’d known exactly what she would give him and it had just taken the rest of her time to catch up.

Strange how she’d found it in her subspace pocket this afternoon during training. It was just a white rose. Nothing special. 

She turned to go, breath misting in the cold December air. What on earth had possessed her to do something so childish? She had raced across the city from Hikawa shrine, transformed, bounded up 11 flights of fire escape just to give that stupid flower to him, of all people. He could only think she was completely retarded. No, really. This entire thing was like a bad joke. She should have been home hours ago. She should have at least called to say she’d be gone. Her mother was probably having a heart attack right now, and her father had probably already called the cops.

Amazing how parents held no faith at all in their young to be able to defend themselves.   
.  
.  
…………………

Mamoru filled a pitcher with lukewarm water and placed the flower gently inside. He’d have to go get something a little better suited tomorrow, but for tonight it would do. It was the most pure white he’d ever seen before, the bud blossoming with tiny pursed lips. Once again, his fingers trailed along the shiny navy ribbon tied just below the petals. Why this gift? Why would she give him something he could possibly have made himself? And why leave it in the snow the way she had? Wasn’t she afraid of it wilting? Why not leave it in front of his door, like the other girls had?

But Sailor Moon was not at all like other girls, he had to remember that. Everything she did had some deeper meaning.  
.  
.  
……………………….

“Serenity…” he breathed against her neck, fingers trailing along her soft shoulder. She shivered, both with excitement and fear. Her eyes trailed from the fire, clashing against orbs the color of the forbidden planet. Her knees felt weak just being in his presence, just feeling his touch smooth along her arm. “Come with me.”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise at his brash invitation, turning fully her body to view the Earth’s High Prince. He wore no battle armor tonight, no weapon save the broadsword strapped loosely to his trim waist. The fine-spun burgundy shirt flowed against his heavily muscled chest, black breaches loose against his thighs. Serenity fought to gain control of her rapid heartbeat, and lost at the gentle smile in his eyes.

“Marry me. Now. Tonight.” His fingers sought her hand, raised it to his lips as he spoke. She felt a million emotions surging through her; desire, longing, fear, shame…hope…. They had never become physical lovers, always stopped short due to shame for their respective worlds, for breaking a heavenly law. The betrayal would choke them at every turn, making something that should have been perfect into a nightmare. But here he was now, the silent promise eminent in his soft eyes. She fought all of these strange feelings, warred against logic and timing. Her body trembled beneath his touch, ached for him…

“Are you mad?” She whispered finally, eyes hardening in determination. “In 24 hours, our worlds will tear each other apart! They are mobilizing even as we speak, and you come to taunt me with a proposal against their wishes?”

He quickly wrapped both arms around her stiff, trembling frame and held her close. It was true. The high generals of his army met right now with his father to discuss tactics and plan for the coming war. It was loyalty to his family and his country alone that kept such secrets safe. He didn’t dare reveal them, and she under similar circumstances did not ask. It was treason, the whole affair, yet they could neither help themselves nor their respective worlds.

“I’ve spoken with Kronos.” He began quietly; afraid the news would scare her. “The Fates have decreed our death sentence. We will not survive the battle, and I greatly doubt anyone else will either.”

She froze, mouth parted in a silent scream of agony as her fingers clutched his shirt. Tears streamed from her silvery eyes to darken the finely spun cloth before her near black. The shuddering breath rasped against her throat, not for her own fate, but for the life of her beloved Endymion…. Was it such a terrible crime? To love a man so much that your soul could burst with the feeling? Was it so distasteful to want a tiny piece of happiness in a quickly dying world?

“We swore that no one would ever touch our hearts if not each other.” His voice was thick as her tears, feeling her sob against his chest in grief. “If we do survive; if the sentence is revoked, we will never see one another again. And if we are to sink to the eternal depths of the river Styx, I would do it knowing we had done everything with honor; that we have neither lied nor allowed to pass that which has been forbidden.” He pulled away, just enough to cup her face, wipe at the tears beating a path across the porcelain skin. “I will never love another. But I will love the first.”

Serenity couldn’t help feeling the same sense of injustice as he. After all, young Eros had been allowed his Psyche, and Dionysus the sweet Ariadne…why couldn’t she have her mortal lover as well? Were the Fates so strongly against such a pairing that they would destroy the known worlds should they dare to justify their love? She looked up at him, already knowing the contours of his face. They had long ago been carved into her heart by gentle hands, by soft words.

“Should we have been any other two,” he whispered softly, tasting her salty lips against his, “we would have been married long ago, and perhaps had a child by now.” His fingers stroked the soft skin of her long neck, eyes sure and steady against hers. “Do you love me?” he asked finally, patient and confident in the reply that was sure to come.

“Yes.” She breathed without hesitance. He should never have doubted, having known how deeply she did love him. After all, Serenity was well known for her unshakable loyalty to the Gods, having been highly favored to nearly all of them since the beginning. And those affections could not bear to match how she felt for her sweet Terran Prince, that she would defy even Them to have him.

“And will you trust me?” he probed again, fingers trailing from her hair to her cinched waist. She could not help the shudder of pleasure, of excitement gripping her at the prospect of leaving with him.

“Yes.” Again, she answered swiftly to his question, fingers tightening in his shirt. He smiled, lifting a lock of silver hair to his lips.

“Then come.”  
.  
.  
………………………

Mamoru woke in a cold sweat, limbs and joints aching as if he’d been beaten. The dreams came with more force every day; he could still feel the silk of her hair, the salty taste of her lips. This damn princess was seriously cutting into the sleep schedule around here, and it was pissing him off. Body trembling and burning in pain, he slipped out from beneath the heavy covers and into the kitchen without bothering to turn on the light. He soon found there was no need for it anyway. 

The rose she had given him was not of this world. In the cloaking shade of midnight, it burned dimly with silvery light, dividing the darkness from it, chasing away the shadows. The bud, in all its glory, glittered like the newly risen moon in the sky, casting pale fingers across the counters, across his face. 

He came forward cautiously; suddenly aware of the princely gift she had given him. The stem had put down roots in the night; the flower had righted itself to stand perfectly erect in the large pitcher. Gently, he reached forward to touch the glistening bud with curious fingers.

It still gave like the swaying of a stem unbroken, but the touch of its petals shot a simmering warmth down the length of his arm, straight through his soul. 

And stopped.  
.  
.  
………………………………………

Usagi gasped and lurched upward in bed. She could have sworn someone else was in the room. It was midnight on Christmas Eve, and she still felt the ghost of fingers against her jaw. The otherworldly feeling caused a shiver to erupt down her spine as she reached up with tentative fingers. There was nothing there, but the pressure persisted a few moments more despite the fact. Gooseflesh burst across her skin at the feeling, causing the only sane reaction possible.

She screamed.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The cold winter air laughed soft petals of snow to the ground, their calm touches coating the world in a soft pillow. Childish giggles filled the muffled air, lighting the cool city like the singing of angels. The rain of feathery snow lay virtually untouched in the streets. Snowmen walked their dogs from the front yard, the joyful tinkle of toys could be heard as faint chorus, and thick smoke drifted from each chimney. All the world was good and bright, and every face held a smile.

“Oi! Shingo-baka! Don’t go running off without me!” Stiff fingers fumbled helplessly with the laces, tugging and turning and grumbling. Usagi huffed a bit in the cold air and muttered under her breath. If it weren’t for the fact the whole family just had to go ice skating today, she’d be still sitting at home sipping hot cocoa and reading manga. It was Christmas day for crying out loud! It shouldn’t be spent out on the ice where you could trip and decapitate yourself!

Well, her family didn’t really see it that way, but this was Usagi of all people. She couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought. Giddy blue eyes turned toward the hot chocolate at her side. The thick, peppermint spiked brew slid down her throat in slow motion. Oh, this had to be heaven. 

The cold snowfall was piling up around the edges of the rink, much like a blanket. The soft pillow of the snow looked so comfortable. The ache of muscle strain wasn’t so bad these days, but she was tired. The disembodying sensation of hands against her face persisted, and she caught herself more than once today whipping around in hopes to see who it was. Gooseflesh mottled across her pale skin at the thought. 

“Odango-baka! I’m skating circles around you!” Shingo taunted from the other side, playfully making faces. The sight should have irritated her since she hadn’t slept much; instead it helped to lighten the mood.

“Come on, Usagi-chan! Don’t be such a grouch!” Ikuko called happily, clinging to Kenji’s arm as she waved. 

She couldn’t help but smile at her family as she finished tying. It was no secret she sucked at these kinds of things, but the fact that it was her family made it more fun. Shingo could be a brat sometimes, and her parents could be pretty protective, but that was ok. They were what made it all worth it in the end. They were the some of the only people who loved her anyway, even though she was imperfect.

The first attempts proved nearly fatal as she slid cautiously out onto the ice. So far, so good, she coached herself into the second step. Immediately, the skate slid out from beneath her back leg, and the world was made of painful, face-flattening ice. Shingo’s laughter echoed even from the other side of the rink as she rolled tiredly to her side. One hand reached up gingerly to rub at her nose. Everything happened far away, in a fog of forgetfulness. Cold fingers crept unconsciously down to her cheek. 

Weak and exhausted, she climbed up the wall beside her. It was difficult to keep both skates equally on the ice as she went. A cool wind blew quickly around her, nearly causing another accident as it went. It took a moment to steady herself again, and calm the jumbled nerves slowly coiling in the pit of her stomach. Another slip like that and she’d be dealing with a broken nose as well. 

“Let’s go home for dinner right after this, ne Usagi-chan? It’ll warm you up!” Ikuko’s warm eyes sparkled, and Usagi felt a little lighter. Christmas day skating was a family tradition, carried on from her mom’s family. Even her dad wasn’t too terribly fond of it, but Usagi could see even in that little act the love he felt for his wife. 

“Hai!”

They played for an hour or two, her nose felt like it was going to fall off in the cold, and her butt had been landed on more times than she wanted to admit. But it was fun to see the family together, and it was nice not to think about anything else going on in her life. It was nice to just be a kid. 

The unexpected came as her family was tying shoes instead of skates, and she was working her way along the wall again to get out. 

Youma exploded from nothing, bursting bits of ice and cement in every direction as several of them marched forward. Usagi flew backward, connecting with the low wall and spiraling over to land in a heap. Shingo screamed somewhere far away. Everything felt muffled and dank. She coughed, hardly feeling the motion in her own throat. Frozen, fumbling fingers dove toward the zipper of her coat, scraping uselessly against the metal. She had to get to the broach quickly, before the Youma hurt anyone.

One cackled from the other side of the low wall, roaring in challenge as large metal claws scraped and slid across rock and ice. Usagi glanced over, taking a few moments to try to remember what it looked like. There were about twelve altogether. The girls were too far away for them to be of any real help for a while. She’d have to keep them distracted until the Senshi could get there. Whispering hopefully, begging that her communicator was still functioning, she called the girls on the broad wave.  
.  
.  
……………………..

Mamoru set his coffee cup down on the counter, ignoring the glaring eyes of the attendant. The downtown area seemed dead on Christmas. He’d never been down here during the day, and it was safe to assume no one else did either.

“Hurry up, man, I gotta get home. It’s Christmas!” Mamoru nodded, not bothering to glance up as he did.

“Atsuo, what is your current GPA?” He asked quietly, eyes grazing the rows before him. The other man huffed and answered, almost ashamed.

“3.4.”

Once more, Mamoru nodded, flicking a bit of dust from the glass counter. It was annoying to see the place hadn’t been cleaned up from the day before. 

“And who helped you with that?”

There was silence for a moment. Dark blue eyes rested on one piece in particular, shiny black and glittering silver. Interesting, he would have to remember that one if nothing else became apparent.

“You, but everyone knows you don’t ask a lot of favors –especially not on Christmas.” Atsuo’s problem, Mamoru decided, was that he lacked the ability to adapt to certain situations. This had caused problems from the beginning, with the tutoring. But then, the dark man had only signed up for the brownie points it would gain him after college.

“This year I needed one.” It was the only answer the underclassman would get. Brown eyes rolled in silent irritation.

“Why can’t you get your girlfriend something on a regular business day?” he asked, now exasperated beyond repair.

“I was being selfish.” Came the calm, somewhat self-mocking answer.

“Gee, that’s a shock.” It was hardly more than a whisper, laced with spite and frustration. Mamoru blinked.

“Excuse me?” he began to ask. Chilling fingers dug directly into his heart, behind his eyes. Cold sweat broke heavily across his skin at the feeling. She needed him, and he was well out of time to be doing this. “That one, and hurry please.”

“Oh, now you want to hurry about it….” The clerk all but dripped loathing now and reached for the keys

“Atsuo? Shut up.”

Even as the doors slid closed, he could hear the muttering.  
.  
.  
……………………

No fan girls meant he could transform wherever the hell he liked, and that meant closest ally, followed quickly by rooftops. He should have expected the Dark Kingdom to attack on a holiday, though for some reason he figured they’d do it yesterday since everyone was out and about. Today most people would be in their homes in any case. The link yanked at him hard, all but dragging him toward the park in urgency. Moon had been held back till the end for months now, and if the fight was still going that meant one thing: really big nasty demon.

He scanned the area quickly once he’d landed, noting a small army of Youma ranging around just outside the rink to the left. None of the Senshi were here, at least other than Moon. There was a flash of red boot, a heavy grunt of pain, and one toppled back from the group to land in a heap on the ground. Damn, he’d stayed too long at that shop, should have ran out of there the moment he felt her transform. She was surrounded, outnumbered, and without the other Senshi, she had no real protection.

Something broke the ranks of the enemy, sent a handful of scaly limbs flying through the winter air and through the wall across the other side. One or two growled from the line, and a golden disk erupted out of another. It fell, hardly making a sound, and once again Tuxedo Kamen whistled in amazement. Bloodied, obviously standing alone, Moon launched into a flying roundhouse that sent the next spinning into pavement and snow.

One hand whipped out, gripping a monster by the neck before ramming him expertly against a knee. The same leg shot out backward to slam a screaming heel kick into the slathering Youma behind. It dropped the battle axe held above her head; fingers limp beneath the pressure of the blow. The tiara all but disappeared from her brow, blazing freely in one hand as she spun to cleave the head free. She flipped, easily clearing the height of another and landing with battle axe in the other hand. 

The tiara hummed threateningly. Two Youma slid upward from the dirt, grunting with the effort it took to stand again, three others appeared behind her. Sailor Moon stood waiting, dropping low into tiger stance with tiara held at arm’s length from her body. The head of her axe rested easily against the ground, but she was tense, ready to leap the second they came at her. Tuxedo Kamen stood frozen, both in awe and fear.

The calm, perfectly confident warrior before him could have been anyone but the woman he loved. She was strong, he was more than willing to admit that, and she was determined; but this was not a girl against the world, this was a woman. The sudden aching thrill of desire hit like a kick to the crotch, nearly sending the man to his knees. Sweat froze on his brow, his eyes strained to take in every square inch of her from where he stood. She was perfect.

She was perfect. His knees trembled a little at the thought of having her. Moon was alert, dangerous even. Heady purple blood stained her white gloves in the dim light, the wicked battleaxe turned the snow grey and black. He could almost hear the steady, rhythmic breathing even from here. She was perfect.

They came from all sides at once, weapons glinting wickedly. Somewhere far away behind the scene, Senshi were running toward them. But it was without hope. They were too far away to stop what was going to happen. Moonlight turning the scene to liquid silver as all weapons were brought to hand. She screamed.

The battle axe flailed out and around, knocking away swords as it went. Her body dropped low, repeating the action as the Youma screamed in agony. The first few around her exploded, blowout knocking the others back. She swept to her feet again, side-stepping into a low horse stance and ramming the tiara directly into one’s stomach.

Tuxedo Kamen shook himself free of the stupor as the tiara flared to slice another straight down the middle. Both halves exploded into dust, and she leapt spinning sideways through the air to carve the last twice through. He didn’t even have time to cover the distance between them before the ash whipped away in the cold winter wind. 

Wind whipped fiercely around her as the storm picked up. Snow leapt in a flying dance as she turned toward the early rising moon. Her form was hazy and indistinct. The cold chilled the deepest pit of his soul as she turned to look over one shoulder at the approaching Senshi. Something about her, it was like déjà vu, like he could see her doing just exactly that gesture a million times over in the same instant. 

The weakness of his knees quickly gave way as he slid from his place of concealment. Even through the pounding of his blood, the warped and confused thoughts muddling his brain, he knew. No more games between them. Not tonight.  
.  
.  
……………………

A thrill of fierce pride warmed her from the inside out. She was breathing heavily, trying not to put too much pressure on her ankle. It ached after that heel kick, and she might have done something rather stupid by doing that. Rei would probably kick her butt for being so sloppy. And they hadn’t covered axe training; it wasn’t something you ran into. Part of her hoped her friend had not seen any of that; the other was jumping up and down like a child.

Blond hair whisked out as she turned to face the firing squad. She’d taken on a whole rank of demons without any help from anyone, and the overprotective Senshi probably would have a bit to say about that. They came racing up, out of breath and wide eyed. 

“Yeah Moon! Right on!” At Jupiter’s outburst, Mercury giggled good-naturedly and nodded her approval. Mars shrugged, though the tiny smile at the corner of her mouth was enough to hint otherwise. Usagi allowed the warmth in her chest grow a little, knowing that all those hours of training were finally paying off. She had worked so unbelievably hard the past few months with no success…until now anyway. A glowing smile spread across her winter-frozen mouth.

“Did you freakin’ see that wicked flip she did! That was so bitc…”

An arm snaked deftly around her hips a moment later, the shriek dying beneath the muzzle of cool fabric and weight. Horror gurgled up from her stomach as she fought against the iron-strong bonds, just in time to feel the teasing warmth of breath against her frigid neck and a strong body at her back.

“Excuse us.” Her wide, terrified eyes begged the startled Senshi to act. Too late, the ground ripped suddenly from beneath her. Their startled cries were instantly muffled as the velvet black curtain of his cloak blot out the night.  
.  
.  
……………………………….

When the inky darkness receded once more, Sailor Moon gasped in a breath of cold relief. Her eyes swam in a sea of black and white, accented in a crimson tide of softly falling rose petals. The picturesque black sky shimmered in hosts of twinkling stars that peaked curiously through the dead skeleton fingers of the trees surrounding her. She shivered against the cool feeling of the forest glade, wondering at the harsh beauty. Jagged ice formations dripped from low bending branches; shattered against the wetly gleaming rocks and littered the ground like broken diamonds. What would probably be a stream once winter released her death-grip ran along the length of the small glen, empty and forlorn beneath the silvery moonlight.

Despite the cold, uncaring exterior coated in snow and ice, the falling rose petals added a livid flash of heart, and caused a tiny smile to inch at the corner of her mouth. Cold, yes; strange and other worldly, definitely; but this glen was beautiful despite it all. For some reason, it’s subtle blend of alarming loneliness and the gentle lighting of a silvery moon would have charmed her, even had the roses not been present.

Blazing warmth spread throughout her body from behind, a single white fist hovered before her face to blot out the darkened sky. The gentle flush of heat against her neck and the sweet sound of his breathing broke the heavy silence of the glen. She tried to flinch away from him, but one glance at her stiff feet proved the act impossible. The legendary red boots were stuck solidly to the frozen earth, courtesy of hundreds of impossibly thick rose vines. Upon further inspection, she realized that the offending material wrapped far up her legs and held both hands hostage behind her back. A sudden thrill of fear gripped her lungs as she realized there would be no escape this time.

“Merry Christmas, Moon.” He murmured directly into her ear, causing a thrill of excited pleasure to ripple across her skin. The fist before her eyes flinched, sending a waterfall of silver tumbling downward. There, dangling at the end of a slim silver chain lay a shard of night, trapped beneath a twirling vine of some kind. Her eyes focused clearly on the hard reflective sides shattered by moonlight. It was a rock of purest black, long and star-cut with two pointed tips, wrapped in what appeared to be super thin tree branches not unlike the ones above her head.

“It’s not as perfect as yours was, but it will have to do for now.” The heavy weight settled into the hollow of her throat as he quickly clasped it to her neck. Once the slack had been released from his hands, the cool piece slid neatly down her front and lodged itself just below the neckline of her fuku. He’s claiming me like some eternal bride, she thought dizzily, wondering if he planned on sucking the blood from her neck. 

No more smutty romances for her, she determined resolutely; especially not starring smolderingly hot men in black.

“So…why am I tied up?” she tried to sound valiant, even amused at the situation, but her voice squeaked and crackled in her nervousness. He chuckled at the obvious bravado, running the tips of his fingers along her arms from behind. Millions of little butterfly sensations tumbled through her system. Her eyes closed involuntarily in the aftermath; she’d never been touched like that in her life! And, once he found out who she was, he’d….

Both eyes snapped back open at the thought and her resolution returned. All of this was for Sailor Moon, not Usagi. Funny, how easy it was to brush off his advances when looked at in that light; all she had to do was remember the look in his frozen eyes and the words he’d so hatefully spat at her in the arcade last June. The thought brought stinging tears to her eyes, but she forced them back down. Crying was not an option right now. Pissed, however, was.

“You better not be seducing me.” She hissed angrily, flinching her bound arms from his touch. He went quiet for a moment, obviously shocked at the molten rage dripping from her voice.

“For a woman so much in love with me, you sure hide it well.” He mused in the silence, the muffled crunching of his shoes in snow reverberating from the empty landscape as he came into view. His soft lips were curled in a cynical smile that made her knees tremble despite her anger.

“I’ve had a lot of time to practice.” She spat, shocking even herself with the intensity of her anger. One raven black eyebrow shot up curiously and he stepped forward to grip her face in his hands as a wicked smile split his handsome face.

“Would it be so terrible if I did?” He asked quietly. She didn’t hesitate even in the slightest.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He probed again, suddenly interested in her golden hair. He reached upward to finger a single golden bun thoughtfully, wondering what it must feel like through the gloves.

“Because you would be seducing her; not me.” He paused in surprise, glancing down at her again as she continued. “If that was all you wanted, a nice little blow-up doll could do the trick. They might even sell them with red bows and a miniskirt if you know where to look.”

Though he was disappointed that she wasn’t melting at his every word and glance, a tiny swell of pride lit in his chest as he looked at her glowering face. No, Moon was not like the other women, she was a spitfire and knew how to deliver a blinding insult with the best of them. Damn, but that was just attractive! Not to mention the fact that she was one of the very few women who could probably kick his ass and make him enjoy it, too. His grin widened visibly, sparkling in the moonlight with mute appreciation.

“You have a very sharp little tongue, Ms. Moon. Let’s put it to better use, shall we?” Her jaw dropped, almost as if it were inviting him to do just that.

“Don’t you dare…!” Her sputtered rage was efficiently silenced mid sentence as warm, soft, smooth lips caught against her mouth. Her angry cry suddenly sounded like a girlish whimper, the frantic straining against the vines at her back melted into a quiet shudder as his arms wrapped around her. The wobbliness of her knees no longer mattered, since as far as she could tell, she didn’t have legs anymore. The battle was lost the moment he nibbled at her lower lip and deftly slid his tongue deep into her mouth.

Tuxedo Kamen felt her literally melt into his arms and couldn’t help but smile against her. She could try to tell herself she could resist, but that meant nothing the second he actually touched her. He’d seen her reaction earlier and had grinned helplessly; glad to know he affected her equally well. Now, with her tiny body shivering against his, it just felt right. She tasted like Christmas; warm chocolate and cider, a hint of peppermint that sizzled in the cool winter air against his tongue. It was soft and inviting, made him think of the home he’d never had, made him think of all the things he could have through her.

The thought sprouted a new feeling, one that no longer rang as desire, or longing; it was deeper and softer. Her head tilted to the side effortlessly as the kisses deepened, her soft groan of desire like music in the otherwise silent night. He took a moment to wrap the cloak around her form. She murmured her thanks against his mouth between each gentle entanglement, her own moving against his more and more as her confidence grew.

The real fun began the second her shy little tongue flicked against his inner lip. At his grunt of approval, she pressed herself flush against him and caught his open mouth in wild abandon. His arms tightened around her, feeling the unbearable heat of her body, her searing tongue burning a path through his. His eyes rolled back in sheer pleasure, a deep-throated moan and a soft curse before she claimed him again, this time in complete control.

He had thought this kiss would be his way to prove superiority, his experience. But no, her intensity and fire no longer simmered behind cool glares and harsh words. It scorched him, tore through him with such ardor that it had to have been pent up for years, decades even. And he surrendered himself to it, allowing the plants around her wrists and feet to shrivel back into the wintery earth. 

His own white gloves were ripped off and he finally got a good long feel of her golden hair wrapped around every finger. Her skin was soft like her rose, body just as firm and youthful with a hint of muscle tone beneath the perfectly smooth skin. His fingers followed the line from her shoulders, down the curve of her back and across the ruffled skirt at her hips. Her hands quickly seeped into his coat, tore at his shirt, ripped little cuts into his neck and tangled demandingly in his hair. He returned the passion full force, lifting her tiny body to crush between his and a nearby tree. She gasped into his mouth, igniting the sizzling peppermint with frozen air and sending his senses reeling. His hands traced everywhere along her suit, searching, aching to find some sort of clasp, tugging and pulling till the bow at her back lay tangled in golden hair and snow. 

Once the idea of somehow getting her out of the suit proved impossible, he simply pressed her harder into the tree, fingers tracing down to those perfect legs. His tongue lashed out in self defense, fighting against hers in earnest, wanting to make her feel everything she did to him. She was now practically wearing his tuxedo jacket, body shuddering from pent up energy rather than the cold, and her wicked, possessed little fingers had un-tucked the shirt to wander aimlessly across his bare chest and back. 

And there were no clasps, no zippers. He mourned the thought painfully, all parts of him seething to have her. This time he bent, catching her mouth firmly against his, tongue tangling against hers and knowing…knowing he couldn’t have her. Not tonight. It didn’t ruin his efforts to return the pleasure she’d given for the past few minutes, though. Even knowing as he knew, he couldn’t pull away, couldn’t make himself stop. All he could do was give in and wait for her to take the next step. He only hoped she would take pity on them both and give in to the moment by detransforming, because anything short of that wouldn’t work out. Her aching, frustrated mewl mirrored his feelings before her tongue burned a particularly hot little flick into his mouth and she pulled away again, her teeth biting into his lower lip as she went. 

Mamoru cursed at the thrill of white-hot pain, the taste of his own blood. Forget all that talk; it was happening tonight even if he had to tear the suit from her body! Part of him wished he’d brought her somewhere a little more suitable, like the apartment. It was too late now, he surmised before leaning in for another hungry kiss. But she yanked herself back, this time in fear.

“Oh, Mamoru-san, I-I’m sorry…” she muttered, attempting to free her arms from his crisp white button-up. His eyes shot open, heavily drugged by her, to watch her adorably flushing face turn away from him in mute horror at her actions. 

“You’re…sorry?” he muttered in confusion before breaking out in rich, dark laughter. The hand at her waist detangled itself from the now ruined blue fabric and rose to his mouth. He burned and ached, hardly noting the fact that she’d drawn the blood that stood out against the moonlight on his fingertips. “I should be thanking you.”

Her still tantalizingly warm body shuddered in attraction at the tone of his voice as his hand returned to her side. He drew in a deep breath, leaning wetly suckling kisses on her neck, marking her high enough that anyone could see it. She’s mine, he all but howled to the world. Touch her and die.

Usagi couldn’t help the groan, though she was quickly regaining her senses. She had just made out with her secret crush very intimately, in fact her body was still plastered along the length of him and pinned to a tree in the most compromising position she’d ever found herself in. And he still didn’t know her name.

“Mamoru-san, we can’t do this.” She whispered quietly, almost afraid what his reaction would be. Her hands retracted from his jacket and hair as she tried again to pull herself free from him a second time. The unmoving braces of his arms didn’t budge beneath her efforts as he chuckled into the hollow of her throat.

“Oh trust me, we can.” His face rose into her vision, eyes slanted and dark with hunger. Glimmering wetly from his mouth, the blood she’d drawn; it reminded her sharply of her earlier thoughts of vampires and once again revived the sense of imprisonment. “If you don’t like getting a little messy, you shouldn’t have bit me, you flirt.” Her hand caught his quickly moving lips, effectively stopping the next kiss.

“No, I mean we can’t do this. I’m not ready, and you don’t even know who I am.” His disbelief showed visibly despite the dim lighting. One hand gripped her wrist from his mouth swiftly, though the other wouldn’t allow her to budge as he kissed her tiny fingertips one by one.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll know who to thank.” His eyes were glittering with mischief as he leaned in close enough to brush against her mouth as he spoke. “And if you’re kisses were any indication, you’re more than ready.” His soft kiss landed neatly on her cheek as she turned away.

“Stop, Mamoru-san. I’m not kidding.” His body tensed at the guilty flush burning into her cheeks and he suddenly found himself breathing very slowly as the gears began to turn. Shock gradually crept onto his face as he stared at her in the silence.

“You’re a virgin.” Her impossibly thick eyelashes fluttered as her eyes focused anywhere but his accusing glare. A soft laugh of surprise and amusement issued from deep in his throat as the arms around her loosened a fraction. “I don’t believe it. You’ve got to be kidding me! How old are you?”

Her eyelashes fluttered again, the blush deepening as she finally looked up at him. With her hair coated in red rose petals, her mouth flushed and full, her cheeks stained the most enchanting shade he’d ever seen in his life, he suddenly realized that the love of his life could be young. Very young. But that was impossible, because given her kisses, she had to be more experienced…

“Are you even legal?” She nodded hesitantly, but was now nearly glowing. He cursed rather fluently, knowing his little nighttime pleasure was at an abrupt end. Yes she was legal, but only barely. “Well who in the HELL taught you how to kiss then, damnit!? I’m going to chase his little punk-ass down, thank him for training you up right, then slowly murder him!”

His enraged declaration would have been completely terrifying, given the stream of blood dribbling down his chin, but Usagi felt a little tickle in her gut and a smile beginning to tug at her mouth. She bit her lips to keep her amusement at bay, but it was hopeless. This whole situation was completely hopeless. A dark eyebrow rose in curiosity when he realized she was silently laughing at him through crystal clear eyes. The ridiculousness of his own outburst finally sunk in, and he found himself chuckling alongside her girlish giggles.

He pulled out the handkerchief in his breast pocket to wipe at the stream, amazed at just how hard she must have bit him. It was starting to throb now, and stung wickedly at the touch of silk. She quieted instantly, reaching upward to brush her fingertips along his hand and mouth.

“I am really sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She murmured, her tone serious and small as she deftly stole the handkerchief and began to wipe at his cut motherly. The soft feeling from before expanded in his chest and he found himself smiling at her warmly. It was a bit of a novel feeling, really, to have someone to take care of you. It was something he’d never had before.

“That feels a lot better when you do it.” He whispered, aching to lean in for another kiss from her upturned little mouth. She looked like she was concentrating so hard not to hurt him, and seemed completely comfortable lying in his arms, pinned hard to a tree. She treated it almost as if it were second nature; and that bothered him a little bit. He was the kind of guy that ordered his textbooks in the wrapping; that kept his shoes in perfect order. He didn’t like anyone else touching his things or leaving their mark.

“Gods, I am so sorry, you should go in and see if you need stitches or something…”

“How old are you?” he queried, hardly listening to her sage advice. Her fingers stilled against his mouth and she gulped. They were so close, he could feel the nervous tremble of her stomach against him, see the fluttering of each individual lash across her soft eyes. She looked away quickly, face reddening all over again.

“Too young for you.” The words were bitter and cold, almost as if she were remembering them. He hooked her chin thoughtfully, noting the way her eyes glimmered with the beginnings of tears in the moonlight.

“You’re legal, that’s enough for me I think.” The murmured response was lost to her as she ripped her face free to look away again. A silvery tear dripped free, quickly weighted to the snow below them to land with an inaudible little plop. The vision caused a tiny swelling of guilt to press against his chest, though he didn’t understand the feeling.

“Ya, well, if only you knew who you were talking to, that opinion would change in an instant.” Another soft little plop sounded though the mute darkness and her hand finally reached up to wipe away her shame. Mamoru was at a loss, not quite understanding if there was some sort of throw-back on the statement. She sniffled adorably, almost childishly, her eyes becoming red and swollen in the half light. It hit him then, just how soft and innocent she was, that she had probably never had such an intense moment with anyone before, and that he was pushing a very sensitive button.

“Sh, hey…hey, Moon, come on. Are you ok?” The awkwardness of the situation struck him; he’d never had a time in his life where he’d wanted to help a crying girl. He suddenly realized that he had no idea how to help her, how to make the crying stop. It was like she was…broken or something…and he just needed some glue to stick her back together. Right? He awkwardly ran his fingers across her face, wiping at a tear like he’d seen done in a movie somewhere.

“Don’t, please…I…I just want to go home. Just home.” She whispered brokenly, evading his fingers and pushing at his chest. He stepped back, ripping the cloak free to wrap around her. He honestly had no idea what to do. Partially panicked that he had somehow hurt the love of his life, he fought for any idea how to make it better.

“Hey, Moon, come on. I’ll take you back to the city, k? I didn’t mean to scare you or…hurt you…” he muttered awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a child. “Let me make it up to you, k?”

She rubbed tired hands across her face, feeling the heartache eat her alive. He was being so sweet. He had no idea what a lie this whole thing was, no idea what lay waiting on the other side. His fingers brushed her face again, lifting her swollen eyes to look at the waiting bundle in his hands.  
.  
.  
……………..

The communicator was going crazy in her subspace pocket, and quickly began screaming the second he set her down outside the park. She could hardly look at him as she wiped at the tears streaming from her eyes. She felt like such a child. Who did that anyway while making out with their crush? She just blurted it out and he’d looked so…she didn’t even know how to name that look. It made her feel like little red riding hood.

“Hai.” She answered, fumbling with the weight in her other hand.

“Moon! What the hell was that!? We come rushing in to save your sorry….” Mars launched into her tirade the second the communication line opened up. Moon winced, glancing back at his dark form behind her.

“I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for the present. And I’m sorry for scaring you.” He gripped her cheek and pressed warm lips to her forehead. The gesture was sweet and endearing; she wanted very much to lose herself in it. Instead, he backed away and disappeared over the edge of the rooftop beside her. Once more, she fumbled with the weight of her present in one hand and began walking toward the arena. Mars voice continued somewhere in the background as she thought. The stone at her neck felt warm and pleasant against the skin, both objects a strange anchor to reality. She had just been kidnapped by the hottest man alive and given beautiful gifts…and she’d torn his lip open in return. Nice.

“…in the hospital. You better get your sorry butt down here right now! He goes in to have it set in 10 minutes!”

“Wait. What?” Usagi broke through, bringing the communicator up to her face. Rei looked furious, face flushed nearly red. She also looked really worried.

“I said Shingo broke his leg! Have you not been listening? You’re parents at least were just knocked out, so they should come around tonight, but poor Shingo’s down here crying for them and they’re out and no one knows where you ended up –including us, I might add. We’ll definitely talk about that later! Get. Your. Butt. Down. Here. Now.”

“H-hai!”  
.  
.  
…………..

Mamoru slid the porch door open slowly, not too worried about being seen tonight of all nights. The streets were empty; the other drapes across the alley were drawn on each window. He was alone in the world right now, and it no longer felt right. The unsettling knowledge he’d gained came as a bit of a shock. He walked directly to the other side of the room and ripped the list from the wall in frustration.

The past few months had been wasted efforts, none of the girls he’d chased down were around that age. He’d just assumed –she logically would have to be about his age. Anyone that young shouldn’t have to fight. Anyone that young shouldn’t be able to wear a miniskirt the way she did. It was such a waste of time to be looking for anyone he knew. It wasn’t often that he talked to girls around high school age.

And none of that could erase the terrified, heartbroken look in her eyes once the subject had come up. What could he have possibly said to her that would cause a reaction like that? Surely even he wouldn’t be that heartless to a young girl. He could think of a few faces, but hardly any names. She must really think he was a bastard.

Given her nature, it must have come as a shock. She was caring and loving, especially to children. Anytime they were in danger she stepped up her game to keep them safe. Often, after a fight, she would smile, laugh, and dance around in the rain. She really had seemed young in those moments. She had seemed carefree, and lighter than air.

Things had to change. The shocked, betrayed blue eyes stalked his every thought; every whimper burned the cornered of his memories. The words she’d used had been deliberate and powerful, words he could easily see himself saying. Yet to hear them repeated back was a riptide of grief and shame, too strong for him. The weight of it clung to his lungs and chest; sucked and tore until he fought for breath. He coughed, unable to help the reaction.

He was a bastard.

He’d never stopped to consider. Never bothered to wonder what she might want or need. She was so young, had never had anything before at all. He’d hunted her, like a wolf on a scrap of scent in the wind. No wonder she’d been scared and guarded, no wonder she questioned his motives.

Mamoru had always considered himself like the tall tower, proud and confident. He knew himself in ways others his age had not even begun to consider. He knew he could survive almost any situation, and had trained himself to do so. Others were like the wind; passing by at whatever speed they liked. No discipline, no pride to be had. To earn his respect, one had to pay the price and rise, story by story, strength of will alone, to reach the top. Few had done so. Few deserved that respect from him.

She had paid that price through nearly two years now; persisting and growing stronger every fight. Her last more than proved the point: she was his equal at least. But the other side of her, the caring, good natured side; he had no response to that. The closest relationship right now was that of Motoki, and frankly even that was often rocky.

She had grown stronger and improved herself for two years. He had not returned the favor. 

Things definitely needed to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like what you're reading? Want to keep up-to-date on new releases? Check out my facebook page: facebook.com/ellourrahlofthousefiction.com


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter nine

Life bustled, whirred, and blipped in a series of unconnected waves. The familiar red gleam of formica in sunlight felt alien and grey. A heady mixture of smell, sound, and flavor enveloped the long countertop like a surreal malt-shop painting of the 50’s. Somehow, the reality that could be bled from it felt distant, glamorized, and lifeless.

Along the forlorn space, papers had been spewed without consideration. Motoki wasn’t necessarily known for making rhyme or reason work to his advantage. If anything, the maddeningly chipper student seemed to thrive on a sense of chaos. How else could he manage a place riddled with youngsters, food, and constant noise? It was with a saddened heart, the sole occupant noted that his organizationally disinclined friend had not, in fact, been anywhere near the tablet in hours. This mess was the tattered remains of his college life. He wished he cared more about it.

Mamoru tried to be as honest and forward as possible in his paper, and what he saw seemed right in a logical sense. He knew he was proud and arrogant, that he was good at everything he attempted, and that he could finish literally anything. They were not bad qualities to have. They would give him the things in life he had never had, through hard work and determination. They were what gave him his edge.

He set the paper aside quietly, fingering the old, chipped mug before him. He had worked all week and more, quickly reading or rereading the assignment books for his extra credit class. During his first or second year of college, he’d had to cover a few credits that took a stab at the subject of self, and had even taken one or two literature courses. It would be interesting to see what the younger kids thought on the subject; especially since they were just extensions of parents and family still. 

What an awful assignment. Looking at books wouldn’t be a problem, but class discussion was going to kill him. These kids had no idea, he was sure, what life was really like in the real world. They’d never even had to get jobs for the most part, let alone fend for themselves outright. As degrading as it was, however, one semester of weekly torture was an acceptable exchange for a better GPA. Motoki had gladly signed on as a fellow paper grader and possible substitute. Given Mamoru’s extracurricular activities, this was probably more of an eventuality than a possibility.

He took a sip of dark, bitter coffee as he thought. The sudden dull ache was a stark reminder of a week ago, despite all the healing powers he had. His lower lip still bothered him even this long afterward. The reminder was not a pleasant one. After all, what he’d almost done could also almost be considered statutory rape. Had she been any younger at all, he’d be completely screwed. 

How could she possibly be so young? The question was a plague, infecting every other thought in his mind. He had been young and fighting for his life at one point, he could respect that level of maturity. It had been him against reality, however; and she stood against an entire kingdom of demons howling for her head. That alone was impressive. The way she had fought that night seemed surreal.

He could still see her lithe form sliding across the back of his eyelids. She had been lethal and dangerous and beautiful, the way her kicks had landed, her impossibly golden hair fluttering through the winter air as she spun. It had been like a dance. Her kiss… he felt the fresh thrum of desire building in his blood. Her kiss had been a nearly lethal dose of ecstasy. Drugged, taunted beyond his ability to withstand, he all but pounced on her the second the chance had presented itself. Thought had ceased, all higher brain functions had somehow gotten lost in translation. His only desire had been her. 

But she was so young! Despite all the power in her body, the strange power she had over him, she was barely more than a child! It was her moment of triumph when she should have been celebrating with the Senshi for her obvious improvement; and he had all but kidnapped her. She had been so frustrated and angry with him for assuming anything would happen, and he’d walked all over that. There was no thought of whether or not she was ready or even wanted him to. He’d just taken and assumed she’d thank him later.

He was a bastard.

And she was so young! 

“Oi, Mamoru-kun! You gunna sit there all night?” Midnight blue eyes flew up from the countertop, momentarily angry at the intrusion. His blond friend was busily wiping down the grease vat, the arcade gutted like a pig for the roast. How long had he sat there staring off into space? Two hours? The empty tables had already been wiped, and the games stared black screens.

He shrugged, looking back at the papers and fingering the mug again. The brew was cold. Wow, he really had been out of it completely. The cup was almost full still. His analytical mind knew in some small way that eventually everything came down to perspective, and his was muddled and incoherent at the moment. He needed a fresh take, and maybe an extra set of eyes in the search.

“Motoki,” his mouth was dry as the question formed, “am I a bastard?” The blond paused a moment, obviously surprised at the question. When he answered, the tone was cheerful and encouraging.

“As a friend or honestly?” 

It took Mamoru a second to decide. He did want an honest opinion, it was true. But part of him knew exactly what the answer would be. Strangely enough, he actually cared a great deal what his best friend thought. Motoki was your typical white knight, and he knew how to take care of people in a way that just didn’t click with Mamoru. He wondered for the first time what would have happened if the roles were switched; if Motoki had been called as the dark savior. Moon would have literally leapt into his arms the first night.

“Honestly.” 

“Yes.” Motoki gave it, but only after showering the vat with the last spray of water. The expectation didn’t negate the foul taste of iron in the back of his throat, nor did it supersede the momentary ping on his ego. Funny how it was that self same ego he was asking about.

“Ok, well what about as a friend?” Mamoru glanced up again, noticing at last that Motoki was staring at him curiously.

“Yes!” The cheerful grin on his face was just begging to be punched. 

“Why differentiate between answers then?” he exploded, nearly knocking the papers off the counter as he spoke. This time the irritation couldn’t be kept at bay. 

“It’s all in the tone.” The blond shrugged, eyes mirthful as he leaned back on the counter. “See, as a friend I’m allowed to be enthusiastic about your bad characteristics. As a regular person I just call it as I see it.”

The irritation fizzled back, disintegrating into blood and bone. Stupid Motoki; trying to be funny in face of a serious question like that. Mamoru should have known his friend would be such a smartass. 

“Then why are we friends?” The darker man challenged, taking another sip from his now cold coffee as he did so.

“How else can I subtly change the course of your life?” The mischievous grin lighting on his face grated on already raw nerves. Mamoru set the cup on the counter again, sitting back to stare at his friend. Despite the grin, he had the distinct feeling that the blond was not actually teasing him so much as stating the obvious.

“I think you’re secretly the bastard.” He growled out finally, standing to take his cup behind the counter. A few turns in the microwave and it would be drinkable again. The comment heralded a sudden burst of laughter from the other man.

“Nope. See the big cheesy smile? It means I get away with stuff like that.” 

Mamoru rolled his eyes heavenward. How sadly true that statement seemed to be. The guy could literally get away with social murder at parties because no one took him seriously. It had been an irritation until he’d stopped going to them. Everyone loved Motoki, and respected Mamoru. If Moon knew him, she’d probably choose the blond trickster in a heartbeat. The fact that his friend remained single was definitely a consideration. In fact, it could be an interesting point. Motoki seemed to know a lot more about the younger people in the area since he worked so closely with the age group.

“Oi, I do have something I need help with actually. There’s this girl…”

“Sailor Moon.” Motoki cut in, his tone sharp and hinted with sarcasm. The irritation boiled a little at it.

“…yes.” He replied evenly, turning to stare his friend down. Motoki had no idea how annoying it was when he did things like that. 

“Just putting a name to it.” The microwave beeped a moment later, only adding to the boiling frustration.

“Yes.” He answered again, hardly bothering to note the microwave by his head. 

“Just helping ya out there, buddy!” the dishrag was wiped across the counter nonchalantly, obviously meant as a distraction. Really, they’d been friends far too long for something like that to work on him.

“Motoki-kun.”

“Well, it was pretty obvious after that little chat.” The Cheshire cat grin spread across his mouth again, white rag flipping as he grabbed at his favorite glass. Mamoru felt his eye twitch dangerously at the sight of it. The surface had been buffed to high polish, and practically reflected light from the setting sun.

“Motoki.”

“The way you go after these girls, Mamoru-kun; it really makes a guy wonder!” he was squeaking. Mamoru felt his teeth stand on end. The damn white rag on glass was actually squeaking.

“Motoki!”

“You could almost see the pedophile in that, you creeper!” Mamoru saw red. He was NOT a creeper! He was NOT a pedophile!

“Motoki-kun!”

“Careful, Mamoru-kun, that kind of stalker activity could turn a girl off pretty quick!” Squeak, squeak, went the glass. His nerves were raw, his jaw tightened. It was down to murder now. 

“Mo…”

“No girl wants a stalker!” Motoki screamed finally, eyes glinting and brandishing the glass cup heavenward in righteous zeal.

“Why wouldn’t she want me? I’m Tuxedo Kamen for crying out loud!”

“Holy shit!” Motoki screamed at nearly the same level, accentuated by the sharp tinkling of broken glass. Horror struck moments after shock, and the young man howled in pain and grief as he fell to his knees in the mess. “NO!!!!”

Mamoru gulped, momentarily shocked into silence. He’d just blurted the biggest secret in the world, and Motoki had literally smashed his most prized tip cup to pieces on the floor. He didn’t know which was more earthshaking.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Mamoru suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath. The fallen blond head in front of him was obviously downcast, and suddenly angry. Even as he lifted pieces of glass into his hands, the incoming explosion was obvious.

“No! What the hell is this?!” The pieces were swept carefully into his arms. The shocked, almost disbelieving man stood quietly, swallowing a bit. Motoki had had that glass forever. Not the childish kind of forever as in five minutes previously, but since they were kids. Strangely, it made him feel…guilty? It was still a fairly new sensation. He didn’t like it. “Explains even more! Why didn’t you tell me –all I did over Halloween was make fun of you!”

“That’s why I thought you knew!” Mamoru shot back, hardly believe what had just happened. How could his best friend not have known? Seriously, it couldn’t just be one giant cosmic coincidence that he happened to down his coffee and race off the second a Youma popped up. Usually Motoki was all over that kind of stuff. “Look, we’re getting off subject. Moon won’t trust me…”

“Because you’re a bastard.” That last jibe could have been for either Moon, or the glass. He couldn’t decide which.

“Duly noted! But…how do I even begin to get to her? She’s Sailor Moon! She’s perfect! She’s the ultimate woman on the face of the planet and I want her and I can’t have her and it sucks!” the second the tirade had begun, it all came spilling out onto the floor so much like the broken glass had been. It actually hurt to admit it out loud, but really she wouldn’t have anything to do with him unless it was under coercion. 

“And you’re coming to me for advice on wooing superheroes? How many of those have I dated?” he asked from the ground, arms full of broken glass and dreams. Were those tears in his eyes? 

“She would respond to you, is what I’m saying Motoki. She’s sappy and sweet and all that crap I’m not good at.” The blond turned back to his work, carefully lifting the bundle up from the ground. Shards of light glittered from the tile still, like a cemetery of glitter. The other man carefully took the other pieces to the counter, laying them out carefully so as not to incur more damage to them. 

“So get good at it.” He stated quietly, as if the answer was obvious. It was, but that hadn’t been the question to begin with. Mamoru couldn’t help the irritated eye roll as his friend continued on in his work. It was gone, just put the glass down and back away! It was awful, that he freely admitted, but it wasn’t like it could be glued back together or anything.

“How?” he pressed. The clattering stopped. White clad arms leaned heavily on the red countertop, obviously irritated in turn. Despite the sudden death of the old glass, Mamoru felt a tiny ping of satisfaction. After all, the blond had done nothing but give snide remarks since the beginning of the conversation.

“Well, you could start by being nice.”

Both eyes rolled heavenward again. Yeah, be nice. Because that’s really all it would take to impress a super hero of her magnum. Not to mention it would bring a lot of unwanted attention from the world at large. Besides, it wasn’t exactly what he was going for.

“You think? What else can I do? I don’t want to just be nice to people, I want to be…”

“Better?” His friend cut in, turning from the mess finally. He must have seen something pretty pathetic in Mamoru’s face, because suddenly the tone was no longer irritated or joking. “Please tell me this is more than just wanting a one night stand with her.”

“It is.” He nodded quietly, more for himself than anyone else. He loved her, wanted nothing more than to stand beside her, to fight with her, to make her laugh the way she did. She may have been painfully young, but really what did it matter at the end of the day? She was old enough to make her own decisions. He could only hope that one of those would be to forgive him, and maybe let him into her life.

“Are you sure? Not just a great pair of boobs now?” Motoki’s green eyes were intense, searching him. Mamoru returned the stare with withering sarcasm.

“Give me some credit, Motoki, I said that to throw Matsumori off the trail.”

“Are you sure?” Again, those eyes searched him, as if he could see straight into Mamoru’s soul. “You know, you never really had a family. She probably comes from a fairly good one. There’s a pretty big difference between you right there. It’s something that’s going to take time, especially for what you’re asking.”

Mamoru shrugged nonchalantly. It was something that he’d at least somewhat known about her. She’d mentioned some sort of family last summer on the roofs. Too bad he hadn’t been taking notes during the tirade, the information would have been incredibly helpful in the search.

“I don’t know anything, Motoki, you just said that.” The blond nodded.

“Obviously. So what would you suggest?” Mamoru grit his teeth angrily. Why did the man have to answer a question with another question? All it did was infuriate, it didn’t actually serve a purpose at all. His fists clenched a little. His friend had always been able to get to him like that, just beneath the surface. No matter how often it happened, he would never get used to it.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.” Mamoru was in slight disbelief as Motoki started to arrange the glass like an intricate puzzle.

“Well don’t. You’ve got a whole list of things you could be doing to help with that.” Motoki finally gave up on shards and reached into a cabinet under the counter. He came back up with an intricate napkin that was soon laid out on the flat surface. The tinkling of glass as it was carefully placed in the cloth was the only sound in the arcade for awhile. Mamoru thought for a few moments, noting how the last rays of the sun glinting in through the window and hitting the pieces of the over-shined glass was somehow distracting.

“Give me one example.” Motoki had finally tied the corners of the napkin together and walk to the trash bin, contemplating over it.

“No, Mamoru. This is something you have to figure out on your own. My suggestion is start with something you know.” The precious cargo in Motoki’s hands was finally placed in the compartment. Mamoru stood, figuring that he was not going to get anything more out of the man who was now kneeling in front of the can and seemed to be giving the glass its final words. He decided to give the man his privacy through this trial, and packed his books and papers. The sun had just set, city lights illuminated the street as he left the arcade.  
.  
.  
…………………..

The room blossomed deep red, accented in the heady scent of roses. The childish room was completely overrun with crimson. Usagi smiled, breathing deeply and laying back on the bed. The sudden weight by her feet made her smile in sleepy bliss. Luna padded her way up the bed slowly, obviously muttering under her breath about the gifts. The blond tried her best to ignore that bit. Her room was filled with red roses from Tuxedo Kamen, and she was just going to enjoy it.

“I don’t know why you’re accepting gifts from that guy. We’ve already told you he could be the enemy.” The long, sleek body curled up beside her as she spoke, tail switching in irritation. Usagi nodded half heartedly and set her hand along the warm, soft back of her mentor. Thick black hair slid between her fingers as she drifted in and out of sleep. It was the last day of winter vacation, tomorrow would bring school again. She wasn’t quite ready for that yet, but it was going to happen anyway.

“Oi, Usagi-donkey!” the door whipped open at the sound of her brother’s voice, revealing the short brunette. Usagi couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “You got some mail! I found it on the counter under a stack of magazines!”

The letter came flying through the air toward her, barely missing an ear as she deftly slid around it. Shingo grumbled at not hitting her before turning to hobble off down the hallway.

“Oi Shingo! Crutches look good on you!” She called back, half giggling as he hollered over one shoulder for her to shut it. She really shouldn’t be amused at it, since he’d been caught in an attack that she had been part of, but he was just…such a little brother. Luna sniffed disdainfully, flicking her tail anew. Her and Shingo hadn’t gotten along from the start, and the boy still got on her nerves sometimes. Especially after interrupting her little cat nap.

Usagi reached up carefully, picking the letter up from the other side of the mattress. It was from the school district. She groaned, knowing her grades from last semester weren’t going to impress anybody. But she was trying so hard to get her battle skills up, she didn’t have time for school. Besides, knowing her luck, she’d be fighting these demons forever, so school was really secondary anyway.

The white envelope tore easily, and the letter unfolded like a message of doom. She grimaced, sliding upward to sit on the edge of the bed. This was not her grades at all. She stood, walking quickly towards the door and shutting it behind her. Dad was not allowed to see her Christmas gifts, or else she’d never hear the end of it.

“Mama! What’s this?” 

Ikuko leaned back from her chair far enough to glance up the stairs at her daughter. She was making her way slowly down the steps and staring blankly at the paper in her hand. She stood from the chair, flinging pieces of deep blue hair over her shoulder as she walked toward the stairs. It could be a death sentence for how Usagi was staring at it.

“Hmm,” she began, looking over the notice carefully. “Looks like it’s an extra credit class to make up for some of those grades last semester! That’s wonderful Usagi! Oh, and it looks like it’s required for you as a graduation credit! Isn’t that wonderful? Now you won’t have to spend so much time at the arcade!”

Usagi groaned, slapping her head down on a hand. She was afraid of that. Not to mention the fact she hadn’t been to the arcade in months. She’d had other things to do.  
.  
.  
………………………………..

The familiar streets pantomimed life in every direction. Cold, steel grey skies bore down from above, sheeting color from the view. Lifeless, sloshing snow cuddled close to the ditches. Above, the traffic light changed from red to green, or at least supposedly did. Everything seemed grey and hollow. He swallowed down on the lump growing in the back of his throat. Both shoulders felt stiff and unyielding even as he tried to force himself to breath and relax.

His hands felt clammy and cold. It was winter, though, and the air was humid and freezing from the nearby ocean. It had absolutely nothing to do with the building across the street. His lungs felt frozen and scratchy, his throat sore and aching. He heaved another breath, feeling tired and worn down. The sudden buzzing in the back of his mind was familiar; anger, resentment, denial. The hard emotions all but growled at the back of his thoughts; prowling dangerously for release.

The path was well worn to this spot, and it had taken weeks to come even this far. He shuddered somewhere low in the spine, the familiar smell of machine oil and coal somewhere nearby. Flustered, irritated blue eyes searched downward for a watch, staring thoughtlessly at his face reflected back. The steady hands lied the time: 6pm. It had been more than an hour and a half since he’d finished his last class; too long to stand out in the snow staring at a building. 

The red brick stared back, coated gray and rusty with time and neglect. Around the back, the cook would bring the trash any moment, a side door squeaked in response to the thought. The same stale rice and soup aromas filtered back even now. He forced down the sudden tickle in the back of his throat. Even after this many years…

Clammy, stiff hands stretched within their thick leather gloves. He heaved one more breath, then another. If he could just focus long enough to cross the street… if he could just take another breath maybe…

Late January air clogged and tore on the way down his throat. He had to get moving. Pretty soon, the attendant would assume he had not wanted to come by at all. He’d spoken with her weeks ago, tentatively setting up a time to come by. Even then he’d known what it would take to cross the threshold again, to stare down the long narrow hallway into the blackness. The doors would line the walls evenly spaced leading down into oblivion. The warped, uneven wood floor would squeak at the pressure of tiny feet, the smell of future lunch would nearly bring tears to the eyes.

Mamoru forced back again the aching emptiness in his gut, further into his heart and soul. The place had been hell on earth, a corner where kids who were not worth caring for got shoved in the hopes that they would just disappear. Some did. Mamoru had not. As young as he’d been, as confused and scared as he’d been, he still knew there had been a purpose. He knew more than anything that he must survive. He’d known how to close himself, how to stop feeling, how to stop caring. But the mind is a terrible thing to waste, and Mamoru had not done that.

Though teased and bullied early on, he’d spent his time studying. The ultimate reckoning had come the moment his high school test had come back. The others could look forward to a life covered in coal and fish scales, he had been accepted to Azubu Tech, and with it, been assigned to sponsor. The sudden flash of school grants and a chance at a real job, he’d clawed his way out from the pack and into a better life. 

The rest, as they say, was all history. He’d never looked back. He’d never thought to come back. Now that he stood a street away, he could hardly make himself. The orphanage loomed against the hard grey sky like the impending hand of Death himself.

 

That last conversation with Motoki loomed in the back of his mind. His friend had not given him any answers that he’d needed, but he had made a few excellent points. Moon had mentioned something about a family in June, she was warm and caring like a hallmark card, she had the ability to love everyone. Mamoru had not even come close to that. He’d been raised in the pits of hell itself, taught that things like emotions and feelings were weaknesses to be dealt with. He had not known what it was like to care for someone until she came along

Granted, Mamoru cared about Motoki as well, just not exactly the way that Moon made him care. He’d needed fresh perspective and time. Through his reading and preparing for class, someone had brought up the merits of service in character, and had specifically mentioned places like orphanages that needed the help. The book had been direct in the connection between kindness and service. It had been one of the few to even mention it, however the idea had stuck. He barely had time as it was to complete everything, but this was important too.

Now, if he could just make himself actually go across the street. The plan was to come once weekly and be a sort of big brother to a few of the kids. He had no idea what kind of brother he’d make, but the things that had helped him break free would be useful to know to the other kids still living here. The things they hadn’t learned yet would be a reminder to him as well of a childhood he hadn’t had. Well, he amended, at least a reminder of what it was like here. He’d tried to suppress those memories as much as possible.

Moon would think it was a good idea. The memory of her checking over the babies last August was enough proof of that. She loved kids, and sometimes showed signs of being childlike herself. It would give them something to talk about anyway, if the chance for leisurely conversation presented itself. He probably could have just gotten a puppy, for all the effect it would have. Like he’d told Motoki, however, it was all about becoming better, not just pretending to be.

He did not think, he did not bother to breathe, simply stepped down from the curb and walked quickly to the other side. His heart pounded harsh and urgent behind the ears, a sound that felt heady and drugged even as close as it was. The snow crunched loudly underfoot, obviously frozen and refrozen with the ebbing storms across the island. His breath fogged in the air, momentarily blinding him in the cold.

The sudden apparition of the door spooked him from the stupor. He froze instantly at the sight, suddenly remembering how it had looked from a much shorter vantage point. The great wooden door was still painted off white, cleaned to a creepy sort of sterile. The whole place had been like that, scrubbed over and over with the tiny hands of children who had misbehaved. The cool touch shuddered along his spine again, and he raised his hand to knock.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The room was dark, lit only by a small window directly over the main desk. Books lined the walls on all sides, their names lost to the blackness. All sound from outside had disappeared the moment the door had closed with a solid thump. The stark, pale winter light broke itself across a small desk, perfectly clean but for a few papers. A single shadow stretched itself across the sparse gray floorboards, ending as suddenly as it began. 

Mamoru fought the urge to fidget. He was barely breathing at all, forcing his eyes to remain steady on the figure by the window, careful to keep his face as blank and steady as possible. A faint trickle of sweat rolled down the small of his back, itching as it went. The stale, crypt-like air froze from the inside, the age-old dusk choked and grasped as it slid down his throat. It had felt like walking into a grave the moment he had crossed the threshold.

“Chiba Mamoru.” The dry, rasping voice ghosted through the room, causing his hair to stand on end and gooseflesh to ripple across his arms. He stood a little taller, fighting back the urge to cower in front of the shadow. It was like being caught in your worst childhood nightmare to stand here in the room again, to stare down the man who had been the harbinger of doom from your first memory. He suppressed the urge to shudder.

“Hai.”

“I remember you.” The man may as well have landed a heavy blow directly to his stomach. Mamoru breathed deeply, nearly choking on the old, stale air of the office. “The prodigy returns, eh? How is that big shiny school?”

His throat was dry. The old man was actually speaking as if he cared. The idea was ridiculous, as he’d quickly learned as a youngster. The director of operations in the orphanage did not care if you lived or died so long as he got his allotted money from the state, and you behaved. He’d only ever met the man once, and had heard stories of him for years. It was all he could do to keep down the childish terror clawing its way up his throat.

“It’s good, sir.” He croaked finally. The old man nodded, settling himself into the small chair behind the desk.

“And what will you become?” he asked quietly, straightening the papers with absentminded perfection. It was like being audited by the nastiest government tax collectors in the history of the world.

“Big business manager. Top forty company.” His hands were clammy. Was he dreaming this whole segment? Another breath forced his lungs open, but it was painful.

“Business, hu? Well, we need those too. So why come back here?”

“I’m in need of public service hours, sir. I’d like to work with some of the kids…”

“Yes. I’m sure.” It left little room for comment. The papers slid across each other as the ancient man peered down through thick glasses at them. 

Mamoru kept his mouth resolutely shut. He hated being here, hated standing before the old man as if he’d been caught stealing food or something. He’d never stooped to that during his stay in the orphanage. A lot had happened since he left these halls, but it was reduced to nothing in front of the skeletal figure stooped over his desk. Hate and resentment blossomed in Mamoru’s chest as he stared at the small figure. 

“Well,” he breathed dustily, adjusting the glasses as he looked upward. “Everything seems to be in order. I’ll have the orderly show you around.” He nodded toward the door, signally the end of the meeting. 

Mamoru found it much easier to breathe the moment the door closed behind him. He battled against the need to lean on something and simply breathe for a few minutes. The director had given him nightmares more times than he could count. Even the mention of his name had brought terror screaming through his bones. The old man was crazy in that quiet, calculating way that they were all sure meant maiming and dismemberment with the added bonus of a straight face. 

He shuddered; glad to be out of that tiny office and its dead occupant. Besides, it was silly to feel that way now. He was 21 years old, and had done a lot with his life. He was a super hero! He didn’t need some stupid, irrational fear from a man who was nine-tenths dead and already decomposing.

“Chiba-san?” 

The soft voice broke through his thoughts. She was short and old, with great round cheeks and wrinkles to share piling up around her eyelids. Her dark gray hair had been pulled back in a low ponytail, and her clothing was nondescript. She must have been new; he didn’t recognize either voice or manner. He nodded, smiling casually.

“Right this way, I’ll show you around.” She turned, beginning the long trek down the hallway and toward the dorms. Mamoru followed silently, caught somewhere between running for the door and continuing behind the old woman. She spoke, hardly noticing his anxiety. “The children here are most taken from abusive families. They’re brought here from the state before they can be placed in foster care. Most don’t stay long unless their case is particularly difficult. Hizaki Umi is one of those cases. We do have another girl who comes to visit, but it’s usually on Thursdays before dinner.”

“How long has he been here?”

“Two years. He was found starving in an alley, no memories at all of what happened before he was picked up. He’s a scrawny little thing, but fiery. Careful what you say around him.”

“I understand.”

At first look, the boy was hardly more than a slip of bone and flesh. His hair was dark, but whether it was from genes or coal, Mamoru honestly couldn’t tell. His skin was black-smudged and wan, as if it had only been stretched across the bones. Dark, brooding brown eyes stared up at him balefully. The boy was searching, assessing in his own way. Mamoru let him, knowing how untrusting he must be at this point. Especially if he was as difficult as the orderly made him sound –his visitors must not stay long.

“Kon’wa, Umi-chan.” Mamoru said quietly, looking down at the dark-headed little scrap of boy before him. Those dark, sharp eyes stared at him, saying nothing. It was like walking through another dimension, watching himself through the years, staring down at himself from afar. The otherworldly feeling plagued him as the boy finally glanced at the older woman. 

“Chiba-san.” He answered, watching the attendant smile and walk away after the introduction.

“How old are…” the young boy turned and walked away as the upperclassman began, and lay down on the meager bed roll. Mamoru took a breath slowly, remembering what he would have reacted like. This was going to be a long first visit. “Umi-chan.”

“Shut up, baka. I’m not your project.” The voice was filled with defiance and irritation, just as Mamoru assumed it would be. He took a moment to glance around the small, shabby room. It fit three tiny bedrolls, all lined up in a row. Three little chairs were set against the wall, each holding back a large writing desk that could be set across the lap. He remembered the top was smooth and easy to write on, but the bottoms were woven together and tended to itch at the knees. 

He resisted the need to scratch at his legs as he thought, quickly turning eyes from them. The walls were grimy and dark, coated with dirt and decades of abuse from youngsters. It augmented the prison-like feel air, closed the room around him into a suffocating pit. A shiver broke across his skin, and he forced his eyes from the drab, black and white pictures along the wall. The awkward scrawling lines could have come from any child’s hand, but for some reason seemed very familiar.

He pushed the thoughts away, focusing anew on the small boy across from him. Grimy light filtered down from above, decimated by windows coated with smoke and soot from the outside. It all but huddled around the small boy, and nothing but highlight the layers of silt and coal layering his clothes. He recoiled habitually at the thought of it getting in the bedroll, even as meager as this one was. 

“Are you studying anything interesting?” He croaked finally, pulling one of the seats out from the wall to settle into beside the bed. Resolution spread across his face grimly as he sat and turned to the boy again, eyes as steadfast as his manner. 

The boy glanced at him curiously, obviously irritated that the older man had not left yet. Mud brown eyes rolled upward, and he turned over to face the other direction.

Midnight blue orbs narrowed in on the rebellion dangerously. He glanced once more around the room, this time calculating instead of remembering. The drawings stood out, black on black, and weren’t particularly good. The boy obviously didn’t care about appearances either, and that left precious little room for a catalyst. A small frame faced toward the window, blocking his view from the picture within. The floorboards creaked as he reached across and gently tugged the corner back far enough to see.

A short bark of laughter broke the silence, almost cruel in it’s intensity.

“I take it you know Odango-atama?” he asked, fingers rolling over the perfectly scrubbed glass. It had cracked down in the corner at some point and been taped painstakingly back together. Little Odango’s face was screwed up in that donkey laugh, long blond pigtails flailing from either side of her head. Umi laughed beside her, and even his eyes didn’t seem to hold a shadow as he did. The thought bothered him immensely.

“HEY!” Umi screeched, leaping from the bed to snatch the photograph back. The piece was clung to his chest with animal ferocity, a matching glare boring down on him from beneath dirt-caked hair. “Don’t ever touch this! It’s not yours!”

“Sorry…”

“It’s not yours!” he repeated, voice thick and loud in the small room. The crumpled, unruly boy before him could not have matched the face smiling up from the picture.

“She’s a friend then?” Mamoru hazarded emotionlessly. If nothing else it was a topic of conversation, which he was determined to get. It had taken everything he had to cross that threshold and he would not leave until he got what he came for. Charity.

“Shut up! Don’t talk about her! You don’t know her!” the boy spat vehemence, turned away to curl up on the bed again.

“Of course I do. We’re old friends.” Mamoru’s smile was cold and enumerating in the deep silence that followed.  
.  
.  
……………………………………….

A jaunty whistle filled the apartment to the brim, the sounds of frying oil adding a sharp staccato rhythm to the melody. Colors splayed in a dramatic splash across the fine black of a pan. The long stripes of red and green blackened at the edges and peppered with the thin milky white of onion. Across the counter in neat little rows lay shards of cut chicken, mounds of cilantro, and crushed garlic. Each were added to the pan in time, the sudden smells of rich Mexican food bringing the quaint, quirky room to life. 

Lime green tended to be a theme, shown in broad blocks of sofa and tiles of clock on the wall. A small sea turtle chain hung happily from the blinds on one window. His brothers, both of plastic and plush variety, lined the bookshelf and tv stand at random. The more adventurous ones lost in a game of poker around a pool filled with toes and feet from above.

Motoki grinned at the sight of it the moment he turned from the stove.

A few complicated (if awkwardly placed) footsteps, and the young man salsa-stepped into the living room with his plate full of food. He muttered something quietly under his breath, earphones blaring loudly. He set the plate down on the couch, spinning into a random pose with air microphone in hand.

“Nananana –na! Tacos!” he erupted triumphantly, recognizing a single word at last.

“Oi, Motoki-kun. You’re Japanese.” a dark voice called from the doorway. The blond nearly jumped out of his body in response to the tired, anger ridden voice. “I don’t think that’s a taco.” The shadow added, quickly turning to ram his forehead into the wall.

“Mamoru-kun! You’re back! How was the orphanage?” He smiled cheerfully, pulling the earphones away and settling into the couch as if his best friend hadn’t just caught him dancing and listening to Mexican music. A dull thump erupted from the entryway, quickly followed by a second and third. Motoki gulped.

“I hate orphans.”

Another deep thump followed. Brilliant green eyes blinked once, twice. He couldn’t help but stare into the shadow of the entryway. Mamoru’s shoulders were slumped and worn looking, tired creases bore into his eyes even from this distance. It was only a reminder, though, because most of it had come out in that tired, gruff voice. Motoki had never heard that particular tone in his friend’s voice before.

“But…you’re one of them.” He admonished quietly, and couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t quite a jab, at least not entirely.

“Motoki-kun. Shut up.”

He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to the plate. The sick, haunted look seething just beneath the surface of those eyes scared him, as much as he did not want to admit it to himself. Finally, though he had to force his voice steady, he spoke.

“Want some fajitas? They’re Mexican.” 

The answering stare froze even vibrant Motoki in place. Gaunt, dark circles stood out blatantly beneath drawn brows. Pale, maybe even shaking, the other man walked quietly into the room and all but collapsed in the large sofa. Motoki felt his lower jaw slacken a little in disbelief. He could not have left more of an impression had he come in with a handgun and killer intent. There had been a few times back in high school when Motoki had been seriously considering the possibility. Luckily that had passed with time as Mamoru grew more and more accustomed to the cues of society.

“Mamoru-kun?” he asked quietly, watching as his friend pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I should have gone home. Sorry, your place was so much closer.” 

He nodded, watching as the weariness slipped away with each breath. He couldn’t help but wonder how much of it Mamoru kept tightly controlled and hidden from him. Already, the other was sitting up straighter, the color returning to his face. The tragedy of his past had not been a deep well of conversation between them. Motoki knew generalities on the subject, and understood his friend’s reluctance to speak much about it. After this willing jaunt directly into the face of the beast, it was apparent that his friend would need a few moments.

“Let me get you a drink.”

Motoki fumbled with a glass in the kitchen, hardly believing what he’d just witnessed. That man was always cold, calculating. He could look at life from farther away than anyone else could. Always removed, always emotionally detached, his friend had made it this far on that horrible upbringing without going mad completely. It was a self defense mechanism. The mere sight of what lay beneath was disturbing on the deepest level, especially with Mamoru’s current goals.

He handed the shaken man a glass of something dark, instantly setting himself back in a chair across from the couch. He knew Mamoru pretty well, and knew he would want his space right now. Silently, the glass was taken and drawn from deeply. Even after the solid thump of it against the table stopped echoing in the small room, both remained silent.

Motoki had once made the mistake of pressing his friend when he’d been drawn back like this. The result could not have been more surprising, and unsettling at the same time. His voice would not –maybe even could not- rise in anger. The orphan had a way of cutting everyone off from him that felt like a quiet atomic bomb blowing even sound away.

His mind automatically conjured up that day last June when he and little Usagi had fought the last time. Even then, even in the face of her, of all people, he had been as chilling and removed as with every other girl. Usagi, all life and longing and youth, had been nothing more than a spring flower shriveling beneath the frost and snow. She had cried so much. Motoki could remember hearing her broken, desperate sobs through the thin wood of her bedroom door. He could still see the shadow in her eyes even now, months later.

“The director remembered me.” The dark, hollow voice started finally. The sharp reminder of the present brought the usually bright man back from his somber thoughts. “That’s something, I guess.” They lapsed back into silence for a moment.

“I didn’t realize it was the same place.” Motoki croaked finally, the sudden revelation burning even deeper into his mind. There had to be a hundred such places all over Tokyo, so why go back to that one? “Anything else happen?” Motoki asked finally, not liking the brooding look in his friend’s sharp eyes. The firm set of his jaw, angled in the light from the streetlamps outside looked almost sinister for a brief moment.

“I met a friend of a friend actually.” Dark, almost black pits rose slowly from the carpet to catch Motoki’s confusion. “Looks like little Odango’s been playing again. I wonder if she knows how much it hurts them to just leave them in that hellhole.” 

At the mention of the short blond, Motoki started a little from the seat. He’d just been thinking of her, and how she was mixed up in all of this. Strange that Mamoru would run in to her while on an errand for his illusive mistress. Even stranger, that Usagi was a constant visitor to the same place that Mamoru had grown up in. 

“Umi-chan?” the blond asked quietly, remembering the times Usagi would giggle over something the boy had said. The other nodded ominously, as if the revelation had been of something more evil than a friendship. “I didn’t realize it was the same place. Yes, they’re good friends.”

The mute outrage boiled silently within his friend. Anyone else would think he was just sitting in quiet thought, but they’d known each other too long to not pick up on those things.

“Why hasn’t she done anything for him?!” he whispered, but the voice was more intense than he probably meant it to be. Motoki shrugged.

“Because her parents can’t take on another kid right now. They tried, believe me. I think Ikuko-san still bakes cookies for them every Thursday, and they have special arrangements for him to come over sometimes.” He fingered the cooling food on his plate, suddenly saddened that he’d missed the time to eat it piping hot and fresh. 

“She couldn’t have done anything more cruel.” Mamoru intoned quietly, his voice echoing. He lifted the glass and quickly drained the remainder of it.

“Don’t be so quick to judge, Mamoru-kun. Usagi is a good friend. Very caring and sweet.” The admonition had no effect, though. Still lost in thought, the other man rubbed the lip of his glass and stared hard into the ground at his feet. The stygian depths were cool now, almost to the freezing point.

“Yes. I can see that.” He whispered finally, eyes narrowing as he spoke. Motoki clucked, standing to walk into the kitchen with an ease he did not really feel. The room had become ominous and heavy, two things he did not really understand. It had also held a lot of hostility, and against the most ironic of all people.

The water screamed loud, cascading and bouncing heavily off the smooth porcelain of his plate. He stared at the steadily falling spray in quite fascination, mind turning round and round. The implications of his friend’s quickly growing hate would completely consume both of his best friends if he didn’t find some way to stop it. Mamoru was a very decisive person, and once he’d made up his mind there was no going back on it. Usagi had already been thrashed by that, and Motoki would not sit by and allow it to happen again. He should not have allowed it the first time –but it had been sick fascination and even repulsion that had kept his mouth shut that afternoon.

“How do you know Usagi?” Motoki jumped again, feeling his heart pound heavily behind his eyes and ears. “I’ve never asked.” He turned, glancing at Mamoru’s dark form shadowing the doorway into the kitchen. The color had returned fully to his face, and he no longer looked as angry. 

“My dad and hers were college buddies. Dad was Kenji’s best man.” 

Mamoru nodded, leaning his head back on the pale white frame of the doorway. He seemed to be deep in thought, staring away into the distance and lost. Motoki turned back to the rushing water, and to his own thoughts.

“That explains why you always baby her.” The somber man noted this quietly, almost to himself. Motoki just shook his head, glad that his friend really didn’t know the half of it. Ever since that day when Sailor Moon had all but passed out behind the arcade after a fight, things had been so different. He remembered the door opening, seeing her fuku for a split second before the flash of light that brought the tiny, frail girl tumbling into his arms. He’d been shocked and heartbroken to see such a close friend in that much pain. Her arm had been torn up something nasty when he’d carried her into the back room. Unazuki had raced down from the fruit parlor to help staunch the flow of blood while Motoki tried to piece together the identities of other Senshi.

He felt like he knew Mamoru better than anyone, and he likely did. But the shock of finding out he was Tuxedo Kamen had really come as a blow, even as explanatory as it was. Even though it was difficult to accept on the surface, he’d be secretly pleased to hear of the heroic calling. Maybe with time the estranged man might find something in humanity that he could connect with and fight for.

“I protect her because I love her, Mamoru-kun. That’s what you do when you care.” He could almost visualize the other man nodding in agreement, even though he was focused on the dishes. 

“She’d be stronger if she had to do things for herself.” The other man muttered. Motoki shook his head resolutely.

“Not Usagi-chan. She can be a little lioness on her own, but people are her strength. She finds things in them. Good things. She makes them feel more whole, and that makes her happy.” If only his friend could see what she did for others; putting them far above her own needs. Those girls she now hung around after school had all been loners their whole lives. He hadn’t had a chance to talk with them much, since they were always doing other things, but they seemed sweet enough.

“She could do with a little less happy.”

The water continued to pour into the sink, slowly filling the great silver basin. Motoki watched it, memories flashing over the multiple times Usagi had called for much needed stitches, or for Ami last Halloween. He tried to stifle the growing anger rising on their behalf. 

“Why are you so down on her? You’re not the only person with problems.” The water shut off, swallowing the room in silence for a few blessed moments. He breathed a bit, thrusting both hands into the water to start the dirty work. It was a distraction, and he knew it. But those girls gave their lives for him and everyone else in this city, including the self absorbed Chiba Mamoru. The least he could do was show a little human respect.

“Just the only one that matters.”

Case in point. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did anyway.

“You’re a jerk.” The dishcloth was grabbed a little more roughly than he wanted, but it couldn’t be helped. 

“But I’m working on it.” The snide answer did nothing but frustrate the blond man as he leaned over the sink. Who would have thought that Mamoru really could be that much of a heartless, self-centered jack-off? He could see the goal quickly slipping from sight even as he stood staring blankly at the plate in the sink. 

“At the rate you’re going, you’ll never get to where you want to be. You might as well give up. Just tell Moon she can do better and go back to the empty models you’re used to.” He sighed finally, knowing it was true. Even with the added bonus of being Tuxedo Kamen, his friend had no chance if he couldn’t even consider the reality of her.

Motoki flipped the water on, busily scrubbing at a pan to ease his boiling emotions. He loved Usagi like a sister, but she really had some terrible taste in men –even if it was his best friend. He could still see her changing even now because of what Mamoru was doing to her. He hated every second of it.

“That’s kind of harsh.” The rumbling tenor voice muttered across the counter. Motoki glanced sideways before returning to his plate. Why did he have to be such a pushover for that stupid hollow look Mamoru did sometimes. It was like kicking a puppy that had already been kicked half dead.

“It’s more than kind of true.” he rinsed carefully, keeping his eyes down as he spoke. “You’re courting –in your own words- the perfect woman. You want to change for her, don’t you? It’s not about the actions, Mamoru-kun, it’s about the reactions. It’s about what you’re thinking; it’s about what you want to do.” The water shut off, causing a heavy silence to fall across them as he busied himself with the drying. His mind was working at a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of any way to help the situation instead of hinder. “If you’re just staring off into space obsessing about her while you’re talking with someone, you might as well end the conversation and set up a creepy shrine in your living room. You might as well just keep dreaming forever because she will never be ok with that. You know her better than I do, and you know I’m right.”

“Yeah. You are.” His friend said at last, breaking through his memories like a knife. He had no idea how difficult it was to see both sides of the argument and choose who to help. He was sworn to protect Moon’s identity with his life, and to protect Usagi as both a friend and a brother. Her father would never forgive him if he ever found out about his daughter’s night-time activities. It was hard already to get a hold of her when her parents called for dinner. 

He could understand why Mamoru was the way that he was. Hell, he’d gotten so much better than when they’d first met that it was night and day difference. But even seeing that change now, Motoki wondered if it was possible for Mamoru to make that big of a leap into the unknown. Usagi needed someone who could understand and accept her for who she was. She didn’t have time to deal with ego or unfounded dislike from some guy who really had no idea what was going on in her world right now. 

“Did you really say ‘courting’?” Mamoru asked, as straight faced as possible.

“Shut up.”  
.  
.  
…………………………

Usagi was a rolling beetle today. In fact, her heavy winter coat had gotten splashed by a passing car, and even looked faintly brown. The ridiculously puffy contraption completely obliterated the girl, down to the spindly fingers poking conspicuously out of the sleeves like insect feet. Her long, skinny legs poked out like antennae. It was cold, and now she was wet, and that stupid extra credit class was going to take away from training with Makoto. 

The really, really sad thing about the whole deal was that she had been in a really good mood until that happened. The flowers were wilting in her bedroom, but at least they’d been there. Things could have gone much worse that night with Tuxedo Kamen, and yes, she had sobbed like a baby in front of him. The still alien weight of his Christmas gift fell heavy on her collarbone beneath the shirt. The silver glittered from being rubbed so much since that night.

It was onyx, the attendant at the mall had explained. She hadn’t wanted to show Ami, for fear of what her friend would say. It was nothing that Usagi didn’t know herself anyway. As much as she wanted to say it would never happen again, deep down it was all she hoped for. It wasn’t at all what she thought her first kiss would be. Not even close. Sometimes, she found herself staring off into space, remembering the strength of him. The man had just picked her up and took what he wanted. The fact that it was incredibly attractive seemed wrong. 

That jerk. How dare he do such a thing to her, carrying her off like that? She’d been so angry at him, so confused at what he wanted. At first, those fears had been confirmed and she’d loved being thoroughly ravished. But then he’d gone and cared about her when she’d cried. He didn’t make any sense. Either he’s a terrible man who only wanted selfish things, or he was a good man and truly wanted to make her happy. All this middle ground was not ok. If he was going to be terrible, she could just tell him to go away and be done with it.

If he was going to be a good...she didn’t know what would happen then. He’d been a bully for so long to her –and he still didn’t know who she was! How could anyone be that thick? Wasn’t he some sort of super genius? Shouldn’t he have figured it out in weeks, let alone almost 6 months? She sighed, feeling the weight of his gift against her breastbone. Mamoru-baka.

“Usagi-chan!” a gruff female voice called across the yard, bringing bright blue eyes around. Along the class 1 wall lay a huge line of girls gabbing and chattering to each other. A tall chestnut haired girl stood nearly head and shoulders above the rest, motioning for Usagi to stand beside her. 

Kino Makoto was the newest member of their group, and strong and brave like Usagi wanted to be. She clearly intimidated everyone but the blond, as the area around her was given a wider berth. The dull army green skirt from her last school hung low below the oversized winter coat. Usagi couldn’t help but grin. At least they’d be rolling bugs together in this stupid extra credit class.

“Oi, can you believe this is required for us? All these other girls are here for extra credit.” The blond guffawed, staring at the long, long line of girls. Someone at the front of the line was leading them over to the Phys Ed building, where she was sure they’d be filling the bleachers and floor. Part of her felt sorry for whoever was teaching this thing; they’d have a heck of a lot of papers to read!

“I know! And here I didn’t think there would be so many wanting extra credit.” A mousy voice commented beside them. Usagi jumped, not expecting the blue haired genius to show up.

“Oh, Ami-chan! Don’t tell me you’re here too!” Mako pressed her head to one hand as she spoke. Usagi glanced from one to the other, feeling a little better now that her two friends were there. With Ami’s help, this would be a piece of cake! 

“Of course.” She adjusted slim glasses and shifted the heavy bag on her shoulder. “I’m very much looking forward to a class on the views of self and humanity through the eyes of classic literature. It will make for a good addition to my other classes when I apply for med school.” The blond nodded half-heartedly. Ami was so incredibly smart and cool. She had a bright future in medicine and could do anything she wanted with her life. Even if the other kids resented her for her smarts, they did respect her. 

“I have to take it before I can get the entrance exam.” Usagi muttered darkly, eyes suddenly flashing unholy fire. 

“Yeah, me too.” Mako nodded in kind as they followed into the large room. The bleachers were filling fast. Girls were everywhere! Where were all the guys? She saw two or three huddled together in one corner and couldn’t help but giggle mischievously. It was every boy’s dream to be caught in a class with this many girls! It’ll be fun to watch them squirm if nothing else!

They found a few seats open in the very back, high enough that Usagi had to fight the urge to squint a little. That was really, really weird! Usually the last seats available were up front! Puzzled, obviously distracted, the blond jumped when the boy next to her grunted in pain.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to…uh…drop my bag there…” He shrugged, reaching down to move her bag closer to the seat and turned back toward the front. She blushed; embarrassed that she’d been as thoughtless as to set it right on his foot. Poor guy. She hoped he wouldn’t be sitting by them next time.

“Usagi-chan, it’s starting.” Ami whispered somewhere on the other side of Mako.

“Wow what a hunk! He looks just like my old boyfriend!” the brunette sighed. Usagi fidgeted with her book bag, trying to see over the heads of the girls in front of her as she worked to get her notebook free. She was going to try her hardest in here! She had to get past those stupid entrance exams!

“Oh, that’s interesting. I guess I didn’t notice who would be teaching.” Ami noted casually, glancing down the row to the fumbling blond in nervous curiosity. Usagi would not like that one little bit.

The blond wrestled the notebook free, fought down the urge to crow in victory and turned both blue eyes to the microphone being tapped at the bottom of the bleachers. Her victorious grin melted instantly; face losing all color at once.

“Welcome to Self in Literature. I am your teacher, Chiba Mamoru…” the girls cheered raucously in response to the name. Even in her shattered state, Usagi could see the faint tightening of his mouth as he moved on. “and this is my assistant, Furuhata Motoki. We’ll be team teaching this class. Outlined on this paper is a full syllabus, please take one and pass them on.”

She couldn’t hear anymore. The drone of his rich voice was doing strange things to her stomach and all she could see were his fiery blue eyes staring down at her drugged and heavily lidded. She could hear the gruff whisper of his voice in her ear; feel his lips on her neck. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!

Ami couldn’t help but giggle even though she felt sorry for her friend. She was turning some pretty funny colors right now. Makoto was staring off into oblivion with stars in her eyes and muttering about old boyfriends. The blue haired genius suddenly wished she had brought her camera and personal thoughts booklet. This class was going to be amazing; especially if she counted the things actually listed on the syllabus being passed around.

 

“Hey, do you have a pencil I could borrow?” The blonds’ thoughts crumbled at the question and she glanced over to see the boy she’d so recently assaulted. He was irritated, obviously, and bored with the reactions of his fellow classmates. Usagi coughed, trying to clear her throat as she reached for her bag again.

“Yeah, sure.” There was a scoff as she reached for a spare and passed it to him.

“This guy’s such a retard. If I didn’t have to have this class, I’d be out of here.” Dark violet eyes turned back to her as he gripped the pencil. He shot her a self-mocking smile. “I bet you love it, don’t you?”

“Who, Mamoru-baka? He’s a selfish jerk.” She nodded, both to herself and her new friend. It was bad manners to talk about him to someone else, but she’d already stated that to herself too many times to count.

“I’m Yamashita Sasuke.” he nodded, the smile more relieved now. She smiled back, nodding in turn.

“Tsukino Usagi. Pleased to meet you.”

The rest of the class continued without a hitch as books were passed out and assignments were given. Usagi found it incredibly difficult to focus on anything, and was sure more than once that he’d spotted her far in the back. What would he even say? What if, through this whole ordeal, he found out who she was? What if he didn’t? What if he graded her papers and flunked her on purpose! What if he singled her out in class! She’d be horrified in front of so many people!

Anxiety gnawed on every single nerve right up to the last minute of the lecture. The idea of him –seriously, of all the people who could have taught this class! – teaching her about self when he was such a selfish, egotistical pig to anyone and everyone in the whole world, it was a joke! It was a really bad joke! How could she possibly be open and honest in her papers knowing he was grading them! He’d either find out who she was and corner her about it, or worse he wouldn’t catch on to anything, but would tease her mercilessly about them!

The second class was dismissed; she clutched her things tightly to her chest, scooped up the assigned book and bolted for the door. With any luck, she’d get lost in the crowd of people slowly piling up between him and freedom. The stairs seemed to jumble together as she moved, threatening to take her down with every step. Stupid! This was so stupid! If she tripped, he’d definitely notice her in a heartbeat and that would be the end of that! Hopefully, since Motoki was teaching too she could maybe talk him into keeping her enrollment a secret or something.

The stairs slid past finally, and the young blond quickly fled to the door and the waiting winter cold outside. The other two blinked in surprise, still standing close to the top of the stairs and glanced at each other. Ami sighed, reaching up to adjust her glasses. Makoto plucked at her skirt a moment, feeling suddenly awkward.

“Well, should we go cheer her up?” the blue haired girl asked finally. Mako nodded.

“Yup. You get the manga, I’ll get the cocoa.”


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

“As we will soon read, the context of ‘self through literature’ is actually more of a study of human nature through the author’s characterization, and therefore an extension of their perceptions of humanity…”

The lecture stopped mid-thought as the door ripped open. Harsh winter wind whipped across the podium, sending a veil of papers launching in all directions. A loud, reverberating smack echoed across the room, followed by a sudden agonized groan erupting from the doorway. The class stared in abject horror as the slightly brownish puddle of humanity fumbled to get to it’s knees. Mamoru felt a sigh rumble up from the very depths of his chest as the much ridiculed golden hair shimmered in the dim lighting. 

Why did the fates hate him? Really? What on earth had he ever done to them to deserve this? It was only the second week of class!!

“Oi! Usagi-chan, are you alright?” Right on cue, Motoki was already moving toward her. Mamoru bit back the urge to offer a spatula for the removal process. Instead, he simply leaned down, gripping one painfully puffy upper arm and hauling the girl to her feet. A second swipe had all her books in one hand before Motoki could reach them. The irritated man didn’t bother to look at the younger girl, but instead stepped calmly back to the podium. Of all the things he could have had to deal with in this class, it just had to be her. This will be chaos.

“M-Motoki….” Usagi’s wild eyed incredulity met with brief disbelief as the blond reached her side. He shrugged in confusion, motioning her to be still.

“Sh, I’ve got ya Usagi-chan. Just get to your seat.” The baffled girl stumbled up the stairs in a bit of a daze. She could barely register the exaggerated gestures from her friends.

Mamoru hadn’t laughed at her. He’d helped her up? 

“What an entrance.” Sasuke remarked snidely, but his brown eyes were laughing. “If only I could command attention like you do, Usagi-chan.”

The golden hair wagged right and left as she all but fell into her seat between him and Ami. Motoki started in on the lecture as Mamoru spent some time organizing the jumbled mass of papers that had suddenly appeared back on the podium. Apparently there were club members in the front row.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll fall head over heels like the rest of the sheep.” He whispered quietly, and she glanced up to a wink and smirk. Shyly, not sure what the heck was going on with the class that day, she shook her head.

“Trust me, it was probably professional courtesy that saved me a sound reaming right there.” She huffed a breath, blowing bangs away from her eyes. The reading assignment from the last class period had been set aside the night before, and never picked up. She’d been completely exhausted, not to mention less than enthused about early Greek mythology. What did that even have to do with the class anyway?

“Thank you, Motoki. Now, if all of you will take out the first reading assignment, we’ll start class discussion.” Mamoru finished, stacking the papers smartly against the podium. The rustle of book pages and murmuring filled the auditorium, and he found himself slowly scanning the isles of distracted students. Nearly every seat crowding the front was overburdened with that damn insignia of his fan club. His jaw tightened. Every single blouse front was loosened at least one button. Really?

At least they were in skirts. If anything happened, he’d trip one and run for cover.

The search continued into the middle rows, but still revealed nothing. He hadn’t bothered to look even that far on the first day, no wonder she’d snuck right passed him. There, hidden far to the back and snug into the corner, the twin odango’s were bent over toward him. He couldn’t help the snide smirk stealing across his face. The pathetic child couldn’t even handle bringing her own book to class! The first boy he’d seen in the room was sharing with her.

God, when did he get this headache?  
.  
.  
…………………….

The February night air was especially cold this year. It ran sticky fingers along lamp posts and street signs, sent chills along her spine and cackled wickedly in the frigid breeze. Gooseflesh broke across her arms as those fingers penetrated her deeply, but she didn’t shudder. The Senshi uniform protected her to some degree, though usually she was fighting in it to keep warm. This particular battle had ended hours ago, the other Senshi sent home to enjoy their nights of romance respectively.

As for her, though, she preferred staring out over the city to returning home. No one would be there, and the sappy romances her mother owned really had no pull. She wanted desperately to be with him, but feared it. As always, the loneliness won out in the end, and she had made her way to a skyscraper downtown to enjoy the view. It was secluded and out of the way, she could watch the cars scuttle past on stunted legs. Her feet dangled over the side precariously, but she didn’t mind. Sailor Moon could probably survive a fall like that, no matter how painful, and she was in the mood to be numb and desensitized.

It had been 8 months since Chiba Mamoru had begun the search for her. She tried to stifle the aching hollowness in her chest. Mamoru himself had left no uncertain terms between them, and the only possible end to this road was heartbreak. She just didn’t know how to tell him, how to make him understand. The hope felt like less than a warm ember now. She hadn’t even tried to keep her identity a secret. Any child with enough brains to put two and two together could have figured it out.

A shiver raced up her spine at the cold finally, the first since running out of her house that afternoon. It was good, though. She wanted to be cold, be frozen to everything. If only she could focus on that instead of him. Another helpless shudder gripped her small frame, more at the thought than her environment. 

A heavy weight settled across her shoulders and her head flicked upward in surprise; she had been certain to choose an empty building to ensure no one would see her. His smile warmed the cool night, and her confusion shifted to a bitter half smile instead. How ironic, that she had just been thinking about him, how he would destroy her. A story he’d covered in class came to mind; a helpless young girl stolen from her home and carried deep into the underworld. She wondered faintly how the young Persephone had survived the fall without breaking.

“You Senshi need a jacket or something. You’re always shivering.” His comment should have made her smile; instead she turned away. Hades himself was trying to warm her? The thought was almost amusing. Mamoru had no warmth unless Moon was present. The second she’d tripped into his class late that afternoon, he should have coldly ignored her, or mocked her usual late behavior. The moment had been less than warm or ideal, yet the fact that it had even happened was shocking.

“Hey, Mamoru-san. I came up here to be alone…” she began quietly, trying to ignore the heady scent of him wafting up from the thick material slung around her shoulders. Her heart was beginning to pound in her ears. Her flesh warmed again as he settled himself beside her on the edge. She fought the blush blossoming in her face at how close he was, one leg hanging over the side to bump against hers and the other behind her back. 

“Mind if I come be alone with you? I brought bribing materials.” He hefted a small package in one hand familiarly, the other hand lifting the top hat free and setting it beside them on the roof. His hell-black hair sucked in the wintery light around them. The white domino mask fluttered down beside it. The silvery light from the half moon above settled across the masculine lines of his face, highlighting and shading him perfectly. She couldn’t help but stare at him as he moved, the shadows of his eyes turning up from the ground. Her pulse quickened.

“Something I picked up. They’re my favorites, so if you don’t like them I can just take them home with me.” He continued. The small box clacked against stone as he placed it in her lap gently. Soft blue eyes were drawn to the shimmering lines of swirling lettering against a dark lid. She couldn’t make out the name on it from the faint moonlight above. A quick glance upward at his encouraging smile and she was reaching for the lid with hesitant fingers.

“Chocolates?” She queried in confusion, staring at the label. Inside, the shimmering fine satin lining was dark burgundy against the near black little pieces. He nodded, carefully lifting one from its resting place. She noted absently that he had removed his white gloves at some point. It made her shiver.

“Yes. It was either that or dress like Barry White and sing in Italian. I thought I’d spare you the show since I can’t carry a tune.” The satin black piece disappeared behind smirking lips.

“I think I would have paid a lot of money to see that.” She remarked, one golden eyebrow arching in disbelief. No way in hell would the Ice King himself do such a thing, even for someone he loved. 

He chuckled, dark and rich. He was laughing at what she said, not at her. The thought was comforting, since it was usually the other way around. It begged the question though, why was he so different around Moon? It was like the heartless bastard took a vacation whenever she was around. She slipped a chunk into her mouth thoughtfully. The frozen sweet warmed instantly, filling her mouth with the smooth taste of dark chocolate and hazelnut. She couldn’t help but moan a little at the exquisite flavor.

“Let’s just say music isn’t my strong suit.” He thoroughly enjoyed watching her eat those chocolates. The way her tiny mouth closed around the tips of her fingers, the fact that she let it melt slowly. A tiny shiver trembled across her slim shoulders and the soft sound escaping her. The memory of her assaulted his mind, the feel of that sound reverberating against his chest. The cold winter air was pulling her hair into interesting patterns all over the black of his cape and the long, long legs hanging over the side dangled and swished in delight.

Not a word escaped her, little mouth moving slowly as the chocolate melted bit by bit. He wondered what she’d been thinking before he walked up. Her form had shaded against the gentle moonlight from above, backlit by the tower lights from below. Both arms braced on the ledge and shoulders held up tight. For a moment, he’d been afraid she’d jump and get away from him before he could break out the chocolate. He’d known he was going to have to talk fast to get her to stay after that last meeting. If her demeanor had been any indication the sweets between them was the only reason she was still sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry again, about Christmas.” He murmured finally. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

She nodded quietly, staring down into the streets as she nibbled at her candy. He had to admit, it wasn’t the reaction he’d been looking for. Normally, a woman at least grew irritated over things like that, wouldn’t she? Maybe he really had interrupted her thoughts tonight. Just the way she’d greeted him made it sound like she didn’t actually know what she wanted.

“I’m sorry I cried at you. I get emotional sometimes.” She whispered finally, turning to face him again. She smiled gently, her eyelashes caught in golden bangs as she blinked. The effect was a little mesmerizing. He hadn’t seen hair dance quite like that before. “Thanks for the necklace. It’s beautiful.” She reached up to tug at the chain around her throat and brought the jet black shard out from below her neck line.

“I’ve never been so jealous of a rock before. Do you wear it all the time?”

She laughed and nodded, fingering the stone thoughtfully. There was something very…odd about the way she turned her head. He hadn’t noticed before now, but it seemed somewhat familiar. He couldn’t help but wonder how he could not seem to recognize her in the street, but that one little action could be remembered. He must not have known her much at all, since it didn’t bring any names to mind. The only interaction he had with people her age was probably at Crown, and usually that time was spent with Motoki anyway.

“How well do we know each other?” he asked finally. Her feet slowed in their swing, and both eyes focused on the black shard around her neck. She didn’t answer immediately, and he couldn’t tell if that was a good omen or bad. Finally, a tiny sigh escaped her lips.

“Not at all.” The whisper broke free finally. The black diamond shard in her hand glistened a moment in the cold moonlight as she stuffed it back in place and returned her blank stare to the city below. Silence reigned between them several moments longer as he watched her. There was something about her, something much more familiar than he knew, but he couldn’t seem to grasp what it was. Her hair was sifting through the cold winter winds and her eyes stared sightlessly below them, maybe beyond this world.

“Moon,” he whispered finally, “what did you do…after I broke your heart?” She tensed and pulled away from his arms, face going blank as she wrapped both arms around herself. Even the memory of that day felt like too much, to think about how much it had hurt, how hard she’d cried…

“I…” She murmured, suddenly feeling that same ache in her chest. “I ran home, locked myself in my room. My cat was there, she thought it was normal, I guess, she just jumped out the window and ran off. I climbed up on the roof, hid behind the chimney. I cried all night, even through the rain. Caught the flu.” 

Oh gods, how he’d crushed her. The poor girl looked so hollow, so much like she had that night last summer. Had he ever thought what an effect he had on a girl before? Was it like this with every girl he’d ever hurt? He shuddered away from the thought, remembering the terrible emptiness he’d felt on exiting the orphanage for the second time. It was like watching a broken woman take the final blow.

“I-I’m sorry.” He offered quietly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. She didn’t bother to look at him as her head shook.

“It was stupid. Why would a guy like you want a homely little thing like me anyway? I’m just another one of ‘them’.” The bitter words slithered against the coldness around them. Mamoru scoffed, tugged at her chin to face him again.

“You are nothing like ‘them’, Moon. They’re all money sucking little witches out to bag the big guy on campus. You are most definitely different.”

“No,” She whispered, shying away from his hand as a few tears leaked free. “I’m just like them. Just some stupid, pathetic girl that hoped…” she sighed, reaching up to wipe angrily at the annoying droplets. “I don’t even know what I hoped. And all that’s left is her… Sailor Moon. Sometimes I wish I could take a knife and cut her out of me.” She finished venomously, her face red with rage and fingers tightening around her slim wrists.

“Hey! Never say that again, ok? It’s part of who you are, not all of it.” He leaned forward to press lips against her lowered temple in reassurance. “I’m going to take care of you, ok? Everything is going to be perfect once I find you. It’s a promise.”

“Yeah…when you find me…” her whimsical smile didn’t fool him, he could see the doubt lingering behind the façade, could see that she had begun to fear that it might never happen. He gripped her hand tighter, raising it to his mouth and noting how cold she must be. She’d hardly shivered since his arrival, but her body temperature was strangely low. She must have been out here for hours.

“Hey. I’m going to find you.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her fingers, scooting closer to wrap both arms around her protectively. Something was hurting her, something maybe that he was doing, and he didn’t understand it as much as he wanted to. “Don’t feel like it’s not going to happen. Don’t feel like I won’t love you just as much, because I know I will.”

She didn’t return his embrace, though her head surrendered to the cushion of his chest. He felt dizzyingly warm to her frozen limbs, a safe haven from the wintery hell she’d banished herself to. As much as she wanted to just fall apart in his arms and cry, she couldn’t make herself do it. How ironic, she mused to herself, for the reputed crybaby… Part of her ached to tell him; if just to see what his reaction would be to the truth. She knew, in that desperate moment, that if he was disappointed, she would simply slip over the edge and end the problem. The other part argued that to do so now, before he knew, would be so much better. At least then, she wouldn’t have to actually see his disappointment, the anger…the bitter hatred. She swallowed painfully, suddenly feeling the sharp pang of awkward guilt.

“You’re going to hate me so much.” The cracked whisper finally broke her will as the tears began to flow again. So, so pathetic! Why did she always end up crying when he was around?! She struggled against his arms momentarily and instead felt the steady pressure of his hands soothing the back of her skull, his gentle shushing. 

“Never. I want to be with you. I’ve been in love with you for years, Moon, and the more I know about you, the harder I fall.” He paused long enough to press kisses to her forehead. “You’re adorable and strong and brave –you kiss like a million dollar hooker, which I really can’t complain about…” she eyed him suspiciously, pulling away just enough to look up.

“How would you know what a million dollar hooker kisses like?” Her tearful, suspicious glare was met evenly with a steady smile.

“You’re also terrifyingly clever behind all that blond hair.” He kissed the shell of her ear quietly as she sputtered.

“Excuse me? Don’t try to change…”

“You know the best way to eat these things?” he interrupted, lifting a small circular chocolate from the box and presenting it to her smoothly. “Stolen.”

“I don’t see how this applies…” she began determinedly before the chocolate rolled across her lips gently.

“Bite, Moon, and I’ll show you how it’s done.” His soft eyes betrayed nothing of his intent, though he seemed adamant to ignore her question. She eyed him speculatively, wondering at his game in the back of her mind, but the enticing smell and taste of chocolate so close proved an impossible temptation. She bit, the sweet, gummy flavors of caramel and dark chocolate rolling across her tongue exquisitely. The soft little candies began to melt the moment they touched her mouth.

Within moments, her face was angled upward and his lips crashed heavily against hers, tongue delving in to steal the piece back and neatly clean the gooey mess from her lips and mouth. It was over in seconds, him pulling away with that devil-may-care grin and her seething in the cold night air. She gasped in a breath and stared at him in shock, hardly believing he’d just done that. Though she still tasted the heady mix of chocolate and caramel, it was now mingled with his taste, and that made her lower stomach tumble in the most terrifying manner. 

“You’re turn.” He grinned devilishly, popping the other half in his mouth. She couldn’t stop staring at him in shock, that taste rolling along her tongue tantalizingly. His grin widened a little at her hesitance, and he leaned forward to press a soft kiss against her mouth. “You’ve missed you’re opportunity, Moon. It’s all melted now.”

Suddenly, Usagi realized that should the impossible happen, should he find out and actually accept her as a person, she would have some serious problems to think through. Her father would kill her, and him for that matter. She found herself trying to swallow against a thick, frozen throat that squeaked childishly at the action. Her limbs weren’t numb anymore, they were seething, throbbing with heated blood she knew had already painted her face; but she couldn’t look away as he lifted another chocolate to her mouth.

She nibbled the raspberry crème and the sickeningly sweet taste barely touching her tongue, before he was there again, his kiss harsh and urgent, almost satanically good as he quickly stole the small treat. His fingers grazed her face and neck, holding her possessively against his mouth as he went about his sticky, hot work. He lingered a little more this time, trailed fingers through her hair and across her cheek as he pulled away. His breathing was rapid against her sensitive lips. His hands slid down her arms, latching onto the padded tops of her gloves till they tugged free from her hands.

“And your turn.” He whispered, pressing the other half of gooey raspberry chocolate into her fingers. She stared at it for a second, almost afraid that by indulging in his little kissing game, she’d somehow lose her soul to him. Hesitantly, the little chocolate was lifted to his mouth and she watched, completely mesmerized, as he leaned forward to catch it. Her fingers slipped between his lips. In the tiny moment between, her stomach dropped out and his mouth meeting hers openly. Usagi realized that she’d already lost her soul, and would probably lose everything else in the future, too.

The second the kiss was over, he gripped her hand to bring it back to his face, softly licking the melted chocolate from her fingers before pressing his lips against her palm and wrist. His eyes glittered predatorily, the Taiko drum of her heart pummeled her rib cage, and her fingers burned in the cold air between them. He lifted another piece to her mouth and she gobbled it greedily, reaching up to pull his head down for a hot, burning kiss that left the piece a gooey mess between the two of them. The quick, expert strokes of his tongue didn’t diminish till long after the fruity candy had been gone for some time and Usagi was infinitely glad to be sitting down.

This time, a little more confident, she stole the other half from his fingers and rolled it, cherry and all, across his mouth. He grinned wickedly, allowing her to do so before mouthing the chocolate, thumb, and forefinger as she shifted to straddle the ledge as he had done. Deliberately, she licked at his lips, suckled softly at the cherry cream, and allowed the chocolate to melt thoroughly before taking her time to clean up the mess. He groaned, utterly enjoying the experience of her soft little tongue delving almost demandingly in his mouth, rubbing against his till he thought he’d go crazy.

And then it was over, and she receded back to sit happily on the ledge. He gulped in an unsteady breath, raggedly wondering if he’d somehow missed a clasp or something last Christmas. Fate certainly couldn’t be all that cruel to him, now could it?

“You catch on pretty quick.” He murmured quietly, eyes roving her form for any clue to how she de-transformed. The suit was seamless, though; flawless on her perfect body. His jaw clenched painfully as he reminded himself that despite all conclusions to the contrary, Sailor Moon was definitely young. The thought did nothing to dampen his spirits as she drew his cape around her petite shoulders and settled herself down to reach for another chocolate.

“Oh, how sad…” she whimpered, bringing him out of his stupor to note that the box was empty. The adorable pout on her face was enough to make anyone chuckle.

“Trust me, Moon, I got the small box for a reason.” She glanced up from the package, slightly miffed at his confession. He settled himself closer to her, arms traveling around her tiny waist till she was flush against his front. “Maybe when you’re older, I’ll get us a big one that will last us a week or so.” He bent, sending a trail of butterfly kisses along her neck.

“That would be a lot of chocolate.” She commented breathily, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked his tongue against her collarbone. He chuckled at her words, slowly working his way back up her neck as his fingers trailed along her arm lightly. Her breath quickened, pulse beating a tattoo against her throat at the feel of his tongue rolling across her skin, the soft, almost fluttering attentions of his lips. She suddenly felt so warm, almost dreamy in his arms as they tightened, his soft mouth as it fused to her skin. She couldn’t help the throaty whimper as her stomach tumbled in response to him. 

“Mamoru-san,” she gulped “wait, please.” 

He paused instantly, tightening his arms around her as the breath sucked into his lungs again. A slow grimace of will furrowed his brow. She was trembling already, and it was will alone that stopped him. He’d been selfish last time, and had felt guilty for months about it. No way would he make the same mistake twice, especially now that she wasn’t fighting against him.

“You’re so different. I don’t understand how you… You’re just…”she struggled momentarily with the thoughts racing through her skull. He was nothing like the jerk he’d been last summer. There was no hint of the selfish man he’d been over Christmas either. “You’re not you.” 

The statement settled like bile in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you mean?” the sweet, salty taste of her skin lingered. He wanted to give in to it again; even as he spoke the words. They hovered just barely above the fresh alabaster neck. Anything but talk about that subject. She pushed away, enough to stare at the street below. 

“You’re usually much more…”

“Bastard?” he tossed in nonchalantly. She gulped, obviously reigning in the word. “Yeah, I’m working on that.”

“Oh,” the tiny sound held a hint of curiosity and confusion. Her mind was churning beneath the wind-tumbled locks. A few of the glittering golden strands billowed before her heart shaped face in the breeze. The silky gloss finish evaded his outstretched fingers as he reached for them. 

“What?” he asked quietly. She was still staring at the street below them in silence, brow furrowed. 

“I…heard a story from a friend. It just struck me as very odd.” curious blue eyes rose to meet him, locking against his as he swept the rest of her hair back. The shadows and moonlight were a perfect mix from this angle. It was a wonder he could sit this close to her, stare into her face, and not have that strange fuzziness draw across his mind.

“About me?” she nodded. “And?” he queried, fingers twirling in impossible long locks. He couldn’t count as many times as he’d wondered if her hair really was this long and blond.

She was obviously trying to hide something. Even sitting on the ledge, she suddenly seemed a little too intent on the roads below them. Staring listlessly downward, her face tilted to hide from the gentle touch of the moon above them. More distance from her; he wondered if she would ever be the girl she was before all of this started.

“I can’t verify a story if I don’t know it.” He whispered finally. Her fingers flicked at some invisible speck on her skirt as she began to breathe slowly again. He was almost positive she hadn’t been this tense earlier tonight. 

“My friend tripped in your class,” the statement was made a smidge too casually for his taste, and he all but pounced on the thought. “…usually you just laugh…”

“How do you know her?” the sharp interruption caught her off guard. His fingers sought her face, turning it back toward his steady gaze. She gulped, staring widely at him. There was no small amount of fear in the silvery blue gaze before him, and suddenly his mind was churning.

“She’s a friend.”

He forced the grim smile from his face, pushing gentle fingers through her silken hair again. He was scaring her, but not by attitude so much as subject. Why would she be so protective suddenly when her mind had been engaged elsewhere. He tried to stream his thoughts together in a steady, mildly curious question. Too late, the ideas were beginning to form at her terrified expression.

“Does she know who you are?” 

“Why, so you can go interrogate her?” her tone was pointed, even confrontational. He grinned in response to it and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The little minx had let something slip, and he’d be stupid not to follow the lead.

“Maybe.” He smiled mischievously, winking at her. She was quiet for a moment. This time, lacing the words with good humor, he continued. “You’re just out to avoid me altogether, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” She grumbled, but didn’t resist when he pulled her closer and pressed her head to his chest. He chuckled.

“I love you.” he whispered quietly, pressing kisses to her head. 

“…I love you, too.”  
.  
.  
……………………….

“What the hell do you want?” The harsh young voice ripped the moment the solid thud of the door hit. Mamoru tried consciously not to grind his teeth in agitation. Last night had started something inside of him. Even though he knew that going back here of all places would not answer any real questions for him, he had to try.

“Umi, quit acting like a badass. You’re 8.” He turned, hardly glancing at the boy as he reached for a chair. “Now, I have a few things I want to talk about, and I’m not leaving till I get answers. For starters, how did you meet Tsukino Usagi?”

The boy stood completely still in the middle of the room, hand still gripping a crumpled piece of grubby paper. His face was a blank mask, his fingers screwed tight against the sheet with such intense ferocity that the knuckles bled white.

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“You do, and you will. I am not leaving until I have some answers, and you are not moving from this spot until you give them.” Menace seethed from every inch of him. He towered darkly over the room, blocking the door from any form of escape. Umi’s face screwed up tight.

“I’ll scream for the caretaker!”

“She took the kids to the park. Now what?” He leaned back against the door and folded both arms across his chest. 

“I’ll tell her you touched me!” He screamed, pointing his finger threateningly. Mamoru stifled the evil cackle spawning in the back of his throat. Children could be so predictable.

“I have a camera set up so she can watch the whole encounter.”

“You’re evil.”

“Yes, I am. Now, where did you meet Tsukino Usagi?” Mamoru asked quietly. The somber little boy glanced down at his bed, shaggy brown hair stubbornly jutting off in all directions. His smile returned, soft and wistful through the pain.

“Shingo was my roommate. When they came to pick him up, she played with me.”

“Who’s that?” Mamoru shook his head in mild irritation. He hadn’t asked about some boy, had he? 

“Her younger ‘brother’, idiot!”

Everything began to click into place somewhere in the back of his mind. The flat of his back hit the door as a soft whistle escaped. 

“That’s…unexpected. I didn’t realize her brother was adopted.” 

Umi snorted and folded his arms, this time in defiance.

“So was she.”


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

“It’s March already.” The heady spring sun was already high in the air, and the warm breeze wafted through the open window to his left. The change in weather was perfect timing, as the semester dragged on and on into the distance. The workload was intense, especially with that extra credit course. The stack of useless thoughts drowned the table before them in a sea of what had been time, effort, and eventually frustration. 

If he had to read one more essay on how Gucci defined womanhood, he’d puke.

“I noticed that much.” Mamoru replied, quickly marking his thoughts in the side margin. “Why are there so many girls in this class? It’s not even remotely feminine.” The paper was tossed uncaringly into a cardboard box at his side before he reached for another. Motoki sighed, setting his current project down and rubbing his face.

“Only you would try to be logical with high schoolers.” The blond smiled ruefully, folding both hands beneath his chin. “Besides, they like you Mamoru-kun. You’re lucky they don’t jump you on the way to the parking lot.”

“That’s because I’m not dumb enough to park here. Ugh, do you want this one? It’s Odango’s.” Mamoru asked quietly, holding the smudged and stepped-on loose leaf between thumb and forefinger. It dangled and folded a moment, revealing more scribbles than space. “Most people type these things, what the hell?”

“Here, I’ll take it.” A slim, pale hand snatched the paper from his sight. The blond had a fond smile on his face as he spread the page carefully across the flat table. Large European eyes skimmed the words as a mindless hand reached for the chip bag. Mamoru couldn’t help but stare a little, mind whirring thoughtfully.

“Oi, Motoki. Is it weird being an American in Japan?” The darker man reached for another stack and repositioned the red pen in his right hand. Motoki didn’t even glance up from the assignment.

“I’m Japanese, Mamoru. Family’s been here for generations. Also, we’re not American.”

“Where are you from then? I mean historically.” A jet black brow arched in interest as he began correcting the sheet before him. Really, some people just could not grasp the idea of a semicolon! At least it wasn’t about a name brand. He thanked the heavens for the respite silently.

“We’re French. Why do you think I have this outrageous accent?” His pale face was smirking as he spoke, and his fingers twirled an invisible handlebar mustache. 

“Um…what?” The solemn man found himself staring in awkward confusion at the stranger before him. How had he ever made friends with such a weird guy?

“Ha…nevermind.” Motoki kept chuckling despite the dismissal. He was already on the second page, and Mamoru found himself wondering when that pen was going to surrender. “Why so curious all the sudden?” the sheet crinkled while he wrote in a solid 55% at the top of the sheet. Well, at least he wasn’t being unfair in the grading process.

“Did you know Usagi’s adopted?” The dark man asked suddenly, face deadly serious. The wind pounded against the thin windows of the arcade like battering rams in the following silence. The blond turned his face up in shock and denial, both hands slamming down on the table.

“Oh my god! The blond girl? With native Japanese parents? ADOPTED?” the barely suppressed mirth in his friend’s eyes was enough to irritate.

“Shut up. Does she know?” The usually sarcastic man couldn’t help but scoff at the sudden change, rolling his eyes heavenward. Gods, if Motoki could hear how awful he was, he’d never attempt such an anti-social feat again.

“Of course she knows. Shingo is too.” The arcade manager shifted out of his seat and leaned across the table to select a few more scraps of torture from the slowly diminishing pile.

“You’d never guess looking at her.” 

“…She’s blo….” Motoki froze mid-movement, his face twisted in confusion. Mamoru waved it off, marking a grade and placing the finished essay down in the finished stack.

“No, I mean her personality.” Mamoru seemed lost in thought, brushing invisible specks from the current project as his eyes stared lifelessly across the room. The slightly younger, yet infinitely more curious man wondered exactly what was going through that head. His ponderously scowling bestie had been thoroughly scarred by his upbringing; and Usagi seemed as normal and perfectly attached as any other kid. The fact that they’d come from similar backgrounds must have thrown the previously desolate orphan for a loop. A thoughtful smile spread across the arcade manager’s mouth as he considered the subtle shift in his friends usually dark countenance.

As much as he would love to hear some sort of secret confession from his best friend about the girl, he knew it wouldn’t actually happen. Mamoru had no idea what was going on, and had already set himself against the thought of Usagi. It bothered him to wonder what would happen if he did figure it out before coming to terms with his more worrying tendencies. Nothing would make Motoki give up her secret; not until the man across from him was truly ready for her anyway. Someone as abrasive and angry as the brooding figure at the other side of the table would do nothing but crush the life out of his ‘little sister.’ 

“Why does it bother you? You know you’re not the only orphan in the whole world.”

“Please, like I would think that.” The onyx black hair bobbed up once, rife with disdain before turning downward again. 

“I don’t know, you get that way sometimes.” The light scribbling of a pen filled the short space between them while Motoki shook his head. “Does this mean you’ll be cutting the girl some slack?” He asked finally, trying to get to the meat of the issue. How had she come up again? He couldn’t remember…

“Of course not. She’s still Odango Atama.” To this, the blond rolled his eyes heavenward and turned back to the task at hand. Really, to be so close and yet so far away...his friend was really a moron sometimes. “Have you talked to her recently?”

Motoki could tell almost instantly that the conversation was not over. Usagi’s arch nemesis had never, under any circumstance, been interested in her activities outside of face to face interaction. A tiny thrill of fear coiled somewhere deep in his lower back as he cleared his throat nonchalantly. 

“Sure. We had dinner the other night.”

The shock of words slapped Mamoru harder than he thought they would, jumping the suddenly atrophied muscles with a painful shock. It was the reaction more than what was said that surprised him more, though. The abrupt tenseness in his shoulders felt horrifically oppressive; and the effect it had on his head was even worse. He shifted, trying to find a better position; all the while eyeing his best friend in concern. Usagi was…a child. Going to dinner with someone their age would probably look like child porn or something. Not appropriate. Not with a 12 something girl…

“Don’t give me that look, it was a double family thing. Unazuki was there too.” The blond absently shooed with his hand, but he seemed nervous, too. Mamoru couldn’t help the answering smirk, saying nothing. It was obvious in the open book of his friend’s face that there was an uncomfortable moment before he spoke again. When he did, it came out harsh, and strangely defensive. “Why so talkative all the sudden? Usually you can’t even spare a few words for the girl and I’m getting the third degree.”

Was it just his imagination, or was the suddenly jumpy man across from him sweating? It was almost obvious in the sudden furtive movements of blue eyes over paper, room, and finally him, that Mamoru realized he’d hit something. He quickly pulled his poker face on and turned back to his work as if the massive overreaction had never happened.

“She just seems very…well connected.” A tiny glimmer of sweat sparkled somewhere by the arcade manager’s temple. It took more effort than usual to squash the growing smirk from his mouth.

“How so?” a large blue eye twitched just noticeably.

“Something Moon said the other night. I think Usagi might know who she is.” 

All out panic erupted despite best efforts against them. The paper was thrown down, both feet slammed into the ground. European blue eyes came within inches of his face, filled to the brim with concern, panic, and perhaps all-out fear.

“I forbid you to speak to her!” He bellowed, skin reddening harshly. The obsessed man blinked in surprise. “Yes, Mamoru-kun. Forbidden. You have put her through 7 degrees of Hell, you are not going to start again.” There was a forefinger in his face. Had he considered the ridiculous man capable of hurting anything, he would probably have laid him out painfully on the tiles already. 

“I won’t hurt her.” He stacked the assignments carefully on one knee, and promptly ignored the sight. 

“Ha!” Motoki huffed indignantly, slapping the papers aside in frustration. “Even mentioning your name at dinner and her father’s reaching for his 10 gauge. I am not picking your butt up at the morgue just because of a hunch!” The chair squeaked in protest as he flopped himself back into it tiredly. Mamoru tsked.

“Wow. No wonder the girl doesn’t date.” He bent, shuffling together the few papers his overly-excited best friend had managed to knock out of his hand. It gave him a chance to review thoughtfully. Strike one had been the obvious secret his friend was keeping from him poorly. Strike two had been the blow-up. Motoki had had plenty of chances to stand up for the Odango in times past. Considering that he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with that defense when they were fighting, it was more than evident that something bigger was going on.

It was just beginning to dawn on him that not only did the strange girl probably know Moon personally, but that Motoki probably had a clue himself. The thought was utterly maddening. Obviously, the irritatingly informed man was unwilling to share the information, even after seeing exactly what it was putting him through. His eyes slanted dangerously even as the last paper was retrieved from the ground and set in the pile. Why would he continue to pretend he didn’t know? 

It hurt to realize his friend would keep something so obviously important from him. He had to bite back the urge to erupt in furious, self righteous zeal at the revelation. After all, he didn’t exactly have proof of this hidden knowledge. The air reeked of it. The shifty, angry set of a usually upturned mouth all but screamed it. Still, this was not the rock solid evidence he would want to come to any sort of definite conclusion. Instead, as with many things, he waited. Either his teaching partner would cave and relinquish his hold on certain bits of valuable information, or Mamoru would have to get inventive in the near future. He would have to calculate his next moves with this in mind, and more importantly, he’d have to wait. A true friend would be forthcoming when the time was right, wouldn’t he?

“Hey, what’s this? College of botanical science?” the bright voice drifted over the tabletop just as Mamoru was straightening, sending a shock across his skin and his hand rocketing forward.

“What? Here, let me look at it.” A moment later the large white envelope was torn from Motoki’s grasp and eagerly settled at the bottom of the pile.

“What is it?” The blond asked curiously, trying to peer through both the assignments and the mysterious white shield. Mamoru shrugged.

“Just something. Don’t worry about it.”

He had three days to finish grading these, but with midterms looming he hardly wanted to wait. The conspicuous weight in his lap felt wearily heavy, and bulged with much anticipated information. It took every ounce of self will not to tear the fragile blank cover to pieces and devour its precious contents. 

The tall white rose had been a mystery he could not solve on his own. Even after hours of going over botanical textbooks dedicated to roses, none of them matched his Christmas gift. There were hundreds of species that held white petals and heart-shaped leaves. But none could have glowed in moonlight, or could drive away the strange dreams. He hadn’t experienced one since receiving the flower. The great, bushing plant was the sole bit of life in his apartment, and had caused him to wonder more than once where she’d gotten it. 

The second Motoki rose to take a bathroom break, the envelope was ripped savagely and voided like a childhood piñata. The extensive report slid, perhaps even hissed, out of the cover and into his waiting hands. He quickly spread the sheets out, scanning the first few lines in his head. Some few words stuck out in the jumble, ‘unknown species’, ‘anomalies’, and ‘unlinked DNA’. 

He set the packet down to lean back far in the seat. The sudden weariness of the ages seemed to dust across his burning eyes. It was so exhausting, always searching and never finding. The tension in his shoulders and back screamed for rest, but some part of him couldn’t drop it. The damn flower was connected to her, it was a clue. He just couldn’t find the link. There had to be something else he was missing. Why would she give it to him if not to help in the search?

“Oi, Mamoru-kun, you alright?” Motoki’s concerned voice appeared in the doorway, shocking the tired man out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just tired.” He rubbed, wishing his eyes would just stop aching. The letter was open on the table, and he just didn’t seem to care anymore. He wanted… so much more than they had given him. He’d wanted them to work miracles, find her for him. Of course that was impossible; he shouldn’t have even wished it. 

“Is it bad news?” The blond inclined his head toward the stack of paper sitting atop the grading like a tombstone. Mamoru glanced at it and shrugged. If nothing else, he could read through the expanded report later when he got home.

“Don’t know yet.” Mamoru’s shoes scuffed at the floor thoughtfully. She had cried the last time he saw her. Not just any cry, either. She’d been terrified of him finding her. She’d been terrified of him. That knowledge wedged a knife of guilt in his soul he couldn’t ignore. If she reacted the same way face to face, he didn’t know what he would say to her. “What else can I do, Motoki? She’s still scared of me.”

“Have you been working with Umi?” His friend asked quietly, leaning back on the doorjamb and rubbing between his shoulder blades. Mamoru nodded wordlessly, they’d already discussed the orphan, and he wasn’t going to reiterate. “Have you been working on being nice?”

Mamoru sighed. That would always be the question, wouldn’t it? Motoki settled himself across the table and folded his hands casually in front of him. The pose screamed interrogation. Mamoru couldn’t help the ironic smile.

“Yes and no. I’m trying.” In reality, he sucked at it. He’d given up a seat on the bus the other day, and the girl had tried to follow him home. It had been quick thinking alone that saved the awkward situation from getting worse when he ditched her at a coffee shop. That was why he couldn’t be nice, because they just assumed he was interested. 

But Moon had been so affected by Odango’s story that it obviously was doing some good, despite the drawbacks. Even Mamoru hadn’t really thought first before helping her up or anything; he’d been more focused on teaching, or at least getting the distraction out of the way. He should have considered it as an act of kindness rather than a quick fix, obviously Moon did. It was just like Motoki had said, reactions more than actions. 

“Do me a favor, ok? Next time you see someone who really needs help –even if it’s something dumb- just help. You might see something in yourself you didn’t before.” His friend was stacking papers together carefully as he spoke. 

It seemed to defy logic. Motoki knew something, and he wasn’t saying what it was. On one hand, Mamoru understood the point that he could be an ass, and that doing so had really hurt Moon a lot. What he couldn’t get through his cranium was why Motoki wouldn’t just tell him who she was so that Mamoru could find a way to make it up to her. Instead, it was all about the wild goose-chase, Umi, and being nice to people. The frustration sizzled behind a cool look and a nod. He would have to try and do it Motoki’s way. He just hoped and prayed fervently that his painfully informed friend would mess up and let something slip.

“Ok.”

Motoki went back to grading, and Mamoru stared intently at a crack in the tile. He already felt as though he had worked so hard to reach her, and it was only functioning on a basic level. She never would have cuddled with him in the past, and she definitely hadn’t wanted him anywhere near her last summer. Their willing make-out session over valentines was more than enough to prove that he was making progress, but was it enough?

He envisioned, just for a second, the warrior. The image held a lot of great things, but it was the feeling that set it apart from any other girl he could have thought of. She was shy at times, playful and fun; she had a great love for life and everyone in it. It made him smile thoughtfully to include himself in that list, no matter how much of a jerk he’d been to her in the past. The most indescribable warmth filled him to think of her, and it left an aftertaste of hope lingering as it did. Valentines proved she was terrified of him, but certainly not enough to just continue shoving him away either.

Somewhere, deep down, he felt perhaps more than just hope.  
.  
.  
……………………

Lightning split the sky in an arc that shattered the cloudy mirror to a million pieces. Soothing rain fell in torrents across his upturned face. A pure, sweet smell lifted and purged the recent darkness from his soul, washed him clean beneath gentle fingers. The park lay in all its wet splendor, the livid green grass as welcoming as any postcard he’d ever seen. A smile of quiet appreciation lit his face at the sight of children jumping puddles farther along the path. Thousands of tiny clear diamonds leapt upward with each hearty jump and resulting laughter. His heart throbbed in loneliness at the sight, and he wished his little blond were here to enjoy it. She loved kids.

Thunder ricocheted across the small park, and sent the children skittering off toward shelter. Their terrified screams caused a boyish grin to light on his face. To be so young and carefree, not worry whether or not your world would change tomorrow or wonder why the world seemed to hate you…

No, he wouldn’t think about that. Somewhere, hiding in this god-forsaken city, was a girl who made all of those feelings disappear with a soft look. He wouldn’t allow the darkness to take that from him. 

Another lightshow ripped the sky into shreds, sent fleeting bolts of energy to break the dim park in pieces with jagged shards of light. He sighed deeply, breathed the healing air and allowed the rain to wash across him. His eyes were no longer shadowed, no longer haunted by a past fate had thrust on him. Now, more than anything, the hope wasn’t just bearable, but palpable when he thought of her. What was she doing right now? Where was she, outside -playing in the rain, maybe?

The rumbling thunder brought a new sound with it this time, a shrill scream that stopped him in his tracks. Dark eyes shot toward the sound, his feet already moving toward it. A peculiar tightness gripped his chest, and added to his bafflement as he slowed to a stop on the other side of the park. There was no Youma in sight, and certainly nothing out of place going on. It seemed empty, even as he scanned the grounds to find the young woman. There, beneath the shadow of a large tree, sat a rumpled figure too dark to make out between the brief lighting the sky provided. He moved closer slowly, watching for any sign of an attack. The Enemy could just as easily lure in its victims like this…

From this vantage point, he could easily see dark blond locks of hair dripping down her drenched form and his heart thrummed hard against his chest…if it were her… The lightning crashed again, closer this time as the bone jarring sound shattered the soft pattering of rain against the tree above them. The girl shuddered visibly, her mud-spattered clothes all but obliterating the small form. The effect was pathetic, and tugged somewhere deep in his chest to see. He stepped forward, shoes sloshing through the wet grass to reach her side. His fingers brushed against her shoulder imploringly, flinching backward as her body shuddered away from him and startled blue eyes rose from white fabric.

“O-Odango?” he asked confusedly. Her teeth were chattering with cold, her legs were drawn up beneath a girlish pink skirt and the pigtails hung straight to the ground beside her. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, kneeling down in the sopping grass. She looked at him guardedly, eyes dark and cold. The burning urge to spew questions at the girl faded the moment it begun, seeing the darkness, and fear in her eyes. A grim smile touched his face as he sighed and shook his head. “Come on, then. Let’s get you dried up.”

She stared at his hand dumbly, as if it were a foreign object she didn’t understand before resolutely burying her face in her arm again.

“Go away, Mamoru-baka. I don’t want your help.” Her firm words were much less effective as deep crack of thunder rumbled close by. The tiny girl shuddered, shrieking in terror as she clung helplessly to the rough trunk. He glanced upward at the billowing grey clouds, and the droplets of water splashing down from the tree above. The storm was only getting worse with time, and he definitely didn’t feel right about leaving her out here alone.

“Oi, Odango, you planning to freeze out here? Because if so, I want my jacket back.” He teased gently, hoping a return to their usual banter might smooth things over. 

“Then take it, you jerk! I didn’t ask for it anyway.” She shrugged the jacket free as if it were nothing more than a nuisance and buried her face in her arm, dismissing him entirely. He breathed deeply, allowing the slight irritation to fade away. Odango had no reason to trust him. He had been unnecessarily mean before.

“I was joking. What do you think you’re doing, anyway? Well, other than trying to kill yourself with pneumonia.” Glowering eyes flicked upward again, partially hidden by the mat of golden bangs. She was quiet for a while. The jean jacket she had on looked bulky at first, but on closer inspection, the fabric was just puffed away from the skin somehow.

“My dad told me that he couldn’t take me seriously as long as I was afraid of thunder.” She answered finally, her voice soft. There was a certain set of steeliness to it, as if she were daring him to comment on the ridiculous phobia. One shadow black eyebrow arched in interest. She stiffened further. “Don’t tease me, you jerk. I’m terrified of it.”

For once in all the time they’d fought, Mamoru didn’t have to bite back a snide comment. She looked tired and cold. The half-light deepened the shadows beneath her eyes, making her thin face seem almost skeletal in the gloom. He wasn’t sure if it was pity or compassion he felt tugging from within.

“You know that trees attract lightning, right?” he asked quietly, without a hint of sarcasm.

“They what?!”  
.  
.  
……………………………..

Mamoru fumbled with his keys for a moment before the heavy wood door finally fell open. Stepping through, he shrugged off the jacket and carefully hung it next to the others on the peg before setting his keys on the coffee table. The apartment was clean, as always, and no longer lacked the human touch. The Lunarian Snow Rose graced his front room like a crowning jewel in the sunlight. It was flanked by books and dwarfed beside the massive oak shelves to either side. The dim, stormy sunlight filtered through grey clouds to settle in ghostly wisps across the plant.

Behind him, tiny little footsteps slowed and stopped. Curious, he turned just enough to watch Odango pause hesitantly a step outside the door. Her bangs were plastered against her face, body completely smothered in her large jean jacket. All of these things were less important than what he saw in the shadows of her eyes. He had to repeat the thought before it would register in his mind. Bubbly, bright Odango had shadows in her eyes, and they were filled with hesitance and fear.

“Oi! Not scared, are you?” he joked, hoping to lighten up the mood a little. But it was strange for him, too. It had been over a year since a girl of any age graced the apartment. There had never been anything loving between them; at least from his end. The rechristening of the place was oddly poetic. Why wouldn’t it be the one girl hell bent on pissing him off from the start to break the cycle? Usagi would, of course, remain oblivious to this. In reality she hadn’t tried to make him angry so much as make him go away. It was so different from the old days –she was different. Every time he saw her, something changed; just like now when the shadows faded back and her tongue stuck out childishly.

“No way, Baka! It’s just…” she paused, shaking herself thoroughly before marching into the room as if she’d never had a problem to begin with. Mamoru couldn’t help but grin a little at the nickname, it had been ages since he’d heard her say it. He’d been so wrapped up with the situation with Moon, he had hardly thought of their daily fights. Those days felt so far away then, as if they had never really happened. For some unexplainable reason, that bothered him a little.

“Come sit by the fire.” He turned, walking toward the artificial hearth and turning the heat on. It had cooled down enough in the apartment to warrant a little more warmth, and she was chilled to the bone. He glanced back, watching her turn around to take in the view of his quiet, reserved home. It was sparse as far as decorations were concerned, but he didn’t have time for it between fighting, schooling, and his upcoming internship. The only sign of life blazed from the frost white rose standing beside the mantle.

“Here, let me take your coat.” The girl was backing slowly toward him, staring out over the balcony. The first brush of his fingers against the stiff jean material of her jacket sent the girl skittering across the room. The wide, terrified eyes and hampered breathing sent his mind reeling as she clutched the thick material to her body. “Oi, Odango…”

“Sorry.” She mumbled quickly and began fumbling with the soaked material. Even as wet as it was, her clothing seemed baggy and childish, he thought. She was tiny in comparison. Great strands of fairytale golden hair clung to her, her clothing, and the jacket all at once. It proved a factor as she thoughtfully unwound it from the buttons. The pale, trembling fingers fumbled without order, and her teeth were chattering.

She must be frozen. After the initial reaction, he was less inclined to try to get close enough to help with the labored process. For an uncertain moment, he watched her struggle before finally turning to grab a towel. By the time he’d turned back, she had already peeled the sticky Levi material from one arm, and was busy tugging at the other when he held the bundle toward her awkwardly.

“Shower’s on the right.” 

He didn’t want to look at her. She seemed so haggard and small, and lost in the folds of her sopping clothing. Her face seemed shadowed and gaunt, almost too thin. A guilty lance formed somewhere below the ribs as he thought back to the things Motoki had said. The feelings of guilt were still virtually new. He’d understood on a clinical stance what it was, but this wasn’t some detached explanation of burning responsibility. Little Odango stood before him looking more like the orphan she was than the girl he knew. And he was in part responsible for smashing that light.

The bunching folds of her clothing squished as the door slid home with a solid thud, just loud enough to echo in the silent apartment. Even her socks were soaked through. He eyed the heavy, dark steps in the carpet toward the hallway and felt a tiny shudder somewhere in his lower back. The burning sense of guilt faded the moment the door had closed, the pit in his stomach slowly subsided.

He gulped, not sure when the breath had frozen inside him. Usagi did not look so good. Well, he amended to himself, she looked tired anyway. All this talk of guilt, and it probably had more to do with school work and midterms than anything he might have said. Still, the ghost of responsibility tickled at his inner ear. Her childlike features seemed more drawn and stressed than he’d ever seen them before. They had gone from childish, silly even, to something much more strained.

He’d never understood her really. The truth of her past made it all the more troublesome, as she could easily have been more like him than he knew. It spoke volumes of her parents, and, he admitted grudgingly, of her. She hadn’t reacted to him the same way others did. She hadn’t flirted or wheedled or whined. She’d stood her ground despite anything mean he might have said. For that, a faint whiff of pride began to gnaw at the back of his mind. Usagi was different, and she didn’t act like most girls when it came to him. And, he was almost positive that she knew exactly who Moon was.

It was strangely reminiscent, come to think of it. Both displayed moments of childishness, and suddenly Odango had a darker side. Maybe her relationship with Moon had sparked this new facet. Maybe her worry had nothing at all to do with him. It was possible, and even likely that she knew how to get in contact with the Senshi. He drew in a deep breath, eyeing the small footsteps thoughtfully. Within moments, his eyes saw only pale wood and a bronze doorknob.

The bathroom door loomed across his vision, and his arm ached with the desire to reach up and knock. But he didn’t remember walking over here, and he certainly didn’t have anything to say to her; well, other than getting a number for his obsession. He blanched.

Gods, Motoki had said to do nice things, not wring information from children!

Something deep within him hardened with resolve as the thought struck home. She was very young. Just a kid. And she lived in a fantasy world. She was like… sleeping beauty or something; just waiting around while the real world passed her by. Someday, some guy would ask her out and Mamoru would be forgotten.

Her clothes materialized in front of the door while he’d been thinking. How odd! He must have really been out of it to miss her inching the door open right in front of him. He bent to lift the bundle, gasping in shock at the sudden protest of tense muscles screaming at him. He sucked in a surprised and painful gulp of air, glancing at his body as if he’d never seen it before. 

“I’m working out too much.” The muttered comment came without another thought as the laundry room door opened with a creek. Her clothing was oddly stiff, he noted. Curiosity bloomed at the sight of white thread hanging from the dark jean material. He laid the sopping mass down and reached for the hem of her jacket. On further inspection, it seemed as finished as any store-bought garment. The lining was dark indigo, and the threads matched the shade; all but this one little tail of white. He tugged thoughtfully on it, and was rewarded with a shift inside the lining.

Weird! He needed sleep! Why was he staring at this badly constructed piece of clothing like a pedophile! In disgust, he shoved the mess into the dryer and started it on high. The jumbled remnants of his thoughts fled beneath the constant churning and humming of the machine at work. He shook his head, disgusted with himself for being so out of it all the sudden, and padded toward the coffee machine.

With a hot mug in hand, he found himself once again standing before the white rose, eyes stuck resolutely on the ever-youthful bud. The scent of it was heady; it filled the apartment with something not quite real, not quite from this planet. After all the searching he had done, modern knowledge could not explain the strange flower. Even the college of botany was baffled by the existence of it. He had never even heard of its mention in stories or myth. But there it was, just the same: forever young and beautiful. It stood nearly five feet tall, the single stalk branching with leaves as if it wanted to be a bush instead. The roots spread like spider webs across the inside surface of the glass globe that held it.

And in the light of the moon, it glowed silver. How could any mortal woman have gotten her hands on it? He knew with every fiber of his being that Sailor Moon had given it to him; he had never questioned that. But where had she gotten it from? Or better yet, from whom? He couldn’t help but wonder, vaguely, if she knew the princess. 

His mind traced back to every time she had given a royal command. With every entrance, Moon all but challenged her adversary with an unmistakably regal tone. Her stance was proud, shoulders drawn back and eyes steady and stern. She fought valiantly and bravely, despite her young age and obvious hesitance. She sacrificed her own fears and faults on an altar made of love and respect for everyone around her. She showed an almost inhuman ability to withstand even the largest temptation, showing her judgment was not hampered by selfish justifications.

Moon would make one hell of a princess. 

He had never been a fan of prissy, whiny girls. From all the things he’d seen in his life, this was all it really took to be considered a princess these days. But something deep down whispered that once upon a time that was not the case. Someone born to it would have been more refined, more capable of both rule and protection. There would have been a regal thoughtfulness to their words, and a deep concern for the people they served.

The rose stared silently back, giving no answers to his thoughts. The sudden memory of a child’s story surfaced from the murky depths of his mind. A curse and a rose; the dreaded voice of a witch stalking the darkness. A prince once arrogant and removed lost to the form of a beast, and a kind-hearted woman given the ultimate challenge. It had also been about change, becoming more than just an heir. The similarity between them was a bit ironic actually, now that he thought about it. Hadn’t the selfish man scorned the old hag because she wasn’t beautiful? He thought back quietly to all the times he had laughed in amused hatred of the people around him, of the world at large. 

It was not beautiful, it was not desirable. The only powers he could have known till now were greed, corruption, and ambition. The woman, this ethereal being capable of looking past the surface, could see the potential of a prince, of a future king. It was her love that eventually broke the curse, and freed a now repentant monarch from his grisly form.

The parallel was too obvious. The cursed being had lost all the things which the woman would find attractive; looks, power, and money. He had squandered it away on selfish whim. In the end, it was the final act of selflessness that nearly killed him, and paved the way for the spell to be broken. To give up the one thing you wanted most in the world meant leaving things to chance. It meant a race against time, hoping and praying that she would love him.

“Before the last petal falls...” He whispered, reaching forward to touch the relic with reverence. She was so close; he could almost feel her presence in the apartment. The rose crackled with power, the tingling sensation at the tips of his fingers proved the point. That had never happened before when he’d almost touched it, and certainly never in broad daylight. She must be nearby-he thought dazedly- he could almost hear her in the back of his mind. 

“It’s beautiful.” Usagi murmured from the doorway, derailing the runaway train of his thoughts. He turned, eyeing the young blond uncertainly. 

“Yes.”

She must have had an extra pair of clothes hidden away somewhere since the sound of the dryer churning in the background stretched between them. Awkwardly, the young girl fingered the hem of her less-sodden shirt.

“Who is she?” She finally questioned, her voice barely above a whisper. He could only smile ironically. Her eyes fell down from the plant to her fumbling fingers, tugging at the thick material in obvious uncertainty. At his apparent silence, she continued thoughtfully. “You love her?” 

“Yes.” He said it with fierce pride, unaware of the answering blush rising on Usagi’s cheeks. It was so deliberate, so territorial and affectionate. It lit the tiny fire burning in her chest to a wild flame, her fingers flexed against the urge to run to him. Her whole body shuddered with the need to be in his arms.

“She is so much more than I could have hoped for. I want…” He shook his head, stuffing both hands in his pockets rather than touch the perfect bud. It was too beautiful to be tainted by him. The one night he had touched it, the sparks had left him breathless. 

The shift provided a perfect excuse to turn and face the intruder thoughtfully. She was standing shyly in the hallway, both feet settled cautiously into the carpet. It was strange to see her back in her puffy clothes. His logical mind could have sworn that even damp fabric tended to stick to skin, and yet hers did just the opposite. There was a tense bowing against the curvature of a natural waist, giving off the impression that, though the girl was skinny, she had no shape to her core. The information lodged itself somewhere in the back of his thoughts as peculiar.

“Go ahead, I’m listening.” She urged quietly. Her golden hair shimmered in the dim sunlight from the porch, big blue eyes half lidded and intent. Despite the oddities of the situation, something about her felt natural to talk to. Without a second thought, he simply dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged.

“I want to be worthy of her.”

Usagi blinked, hardly expecting that answer out of all the others he could have said. He wanted to be worthy of her? Wasn’t he considered easily the most eligible bachelor of Tokyo, fawned over hourly by hoards of fan girls and professors, hailed for his brains and exceptional good looks? Why on earth would he assume he wasn’t worthy of little Usagi? But then, he didn’t know it was just her.

“I understand.” She smiled, but deep down the ache began again. Months now of training had put her well above her goal of defeating the Youma, and even then she felt there was so much left to do.

“Do you?” There was a bare second of hesitation before her head bobbed once.

He couldn’t help but feel… pity… or maybe a deep somber understanding. She had told him she loved him, or rather screamed it in his face. After all this time, he could see behind the sorrow in her eyes that she still felt the same way. It was as easy as reading a book, as easy as seeing through the window directly into her thoughts. She had worked hard all semester long in his class, Motoki had told him. Her papers were very introspective and interesting to read. Mamoru had never bothered to look at them for more than a glance.

He wondered if any of his hoard had that deep, somber look to their eyes when they spoke of him. He wondered if any of them bothered to think the way he did of Moon; that deep-seated desire to become more than what he was in order to earn her favor. Not just to lie, not just to put on the airs of becoming, but to change from the inside out. Had any of them borne that kind of life-altering intent? He couldn’t think of even one conversation he’d had with any of them since the beginning of all of this that even came close to that intensity.

“I’m sorry, Odango-chan.” You are a child, he had said without so many words. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes saw right through her. As if he didn’t even see the woman standing in his living room. He saw her as a small child and nothing more. The realization was like falling forever through an abyss. She had never felt so alone as now. After searching for her for nearly a year, Mamoru could not or would not see her as a woman, as an equal, as a worthy partner. She was still Odango, and always would be in his eyes.

She couldn’t fight the blinding tears. They spilled from her eyes as she blinked, wiping at them fruitlessly with her sleeve. Couldn’t he see her? She was standing right in his living room, had stared deeply into his eyes for no more than a moment? Wasn’t that what love was; when he could see into her soul and guess the truth with what he saw? Why couldn’t he accept her?

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated, standing before her with the box of tissues. She all but choked at the look in his eyes. She couldn’t bear the pity, the deliberate withdrawal. She couldn’t bear his utter refusal.

Long after the door had slammed shut, after her footsteps pounded down the hall, he kicked himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so open about his feelings for another girl in Usagi’s presence. After all, he could see for himself that she cared very deeply, and that those words would hurt her. They had needed to be said. Odango was young and naive and very, very impressionable. She had plenty of time to recover and move on in life, and there was no use for her to waste her time waiting around for him to change his mind.

He tried to be reassuring, but those silvery blue eyes haunted him. That quiet, indisputable way she had looked at him from across the room. There was something strange in the way she… he couldn’t put a finger on the gesture. It would haunt him long after the encounter, long after he could justify himself in his own mind. It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t make any logical sense to him. She was like her clothing, clinging and repelling at the same time, fighting against itself. She was the thoughtful beauty fighting for freedom in the silly child.

Part of him wondered when that beauty would break through; the other part wondered who would be waiting there to claim her.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

It was late. The sodden night air swept gently passed the under-lit coals of a dying fire. Crickets sang their lust filled songs from the laden grass, and the silvery moon stole herself away between great billowing clouds. The woods brought a heady, deep smell to the forefront, its thick sweetness both lush and green. The scent of early spring flowers filtered through the clearing, accented by the rustle of leaves. Beside the fire, hounds lay dreaming of the hunt, their sleep fuddled yawns muffled only by the shifting of great paws on damp earth. 

The man eased himself back against the scratchy wood of an ancient oak, eyes just beginning to dim against the oncoming moonrise. The weary weight of travel and concern drifted down from his shoulders in the fold of a great black cloak. The hazy light of the moon and sparkling dew left a strange impression in the back of his mind. It was as if the Goddess herself was reflecting back a million times over through the tiny, unperceivable droplets. Though not by nature a religious sort of man, it did stir within him a sense of peace. The night’s matronly arms had always held sway of him, and the full, bright orb above shimmered and glowed within the sparse clouds. 

Darkness settled quietly about the slumbering prince, the night crept onward toward dawn. The pale Being flew high above in the heavens, marking her nightly journey across the sky in blazing grandeur. Onward, he slept, even as, for the first time beneath her light alone, the great Goddess looked down to where he lay. Her glory shone round about him, teasing the backs of his eyes as he dreamed. Warmth and quiet reflection surrounded his sleeping thoughts, yet the eyes of his gentle intruder were the cause of his awakening from slumber.

The first view of her was pale majesty. Her skin was as glowing and fair, as radiant as the moon shining down from above. Glittering silver hair fell in great torrents, spilling around him as waves of pure light. Her slight frame bent gently over his sleeping form, a shift of cloudy white clung against her perfect form. Her eyes were twin pools of clear atmospheric blue, open wide in surprise and wonder. 

The gentle throbbing of his heart reverberated the quiet astonishment between them. Softly, very softly, the echo of her heart began to throb as well. Not in time, for there was no common beat between gods and man. For a bare moment, all of eternity fit perfectly within the shared thrum; in the echo which boomed throughout the corridor of time. The sudden shockwave tore through the woven tapestry of fate, shriveled the eon-long stretch of the God’s rule to nothingness. 

Somewhere, far more distant than the stars above, the ripple of motion reached it’s peak high, high in the heavens.

And snapped.  
.  
.  
……………………………………….

Mamoru pulled away from the rose carefully, fingering a soft white petal in his hand. Whatever urge had possessed him to kiss the silly flower was gone, and yet the action had helped. He had woken from a nightmare not long ago, had retreated from the distant sounds of battle into the living room. It was his one refuge from the dreams, from the insistent and increasingly demanding Moon Princess who haunted his days.

The sudden apparition of these dreams fell like a guillotine. It had been months since the last had woken him, shivering and lost in the strange surroundings of his own room. The memory of that night had been a constant threat that never manifested in the flesh. The respite had been needed. It was these few moments in which the constant fight could settle slowly into the back of his mind, the desperation would still long enough to breathe again.

Until now.

The rose had been dim. The sudden onset of panic had erupted instantaneously within his chest long before he could have rationalized the sudden change. Instead, he had all but run across the room from the hallway, had reached for the flower. He had sworn never to touch it again for fear the rose would wither or yellow. 

It had trembled in his hand. Trembled. 

One soft petal creased between thumb and forefinger as he stared at the rose in awe. The eternal bud…was wilting… Already, the blooming head dipped just slightly in response to the weight. The single petal in his hand could easily have been blood -at least, his muddled, sleeping brain had twisted the image so. He gulped, fearfully placing the petal carefully within the base of water. Four months, and the flower had done nothing but blossom, and writhe it’s rooted fingers around the glass vase in happy abandon.

“Moon…” 

The subtle threads of worry and longing began to writhe deep into his chest. A few of the spiked leaves had begun to curl downward. Concerned, tired eyes stared at the white petal listlessly, too exhausted to follow the logical pattern. If he could guess nothing more from the strange behavior of his once happy gift; it was that she was in trouble. 

With grim determination, perhaps even a hint of fear, he turned toward the outside world, trusting his gut to lead him to her. The sodden night air swallowed him whole, and trailed curious paws along the open doorway.

The imperceptible plod of a fallen white petal mussed the edges of the abandoned domicile.  
.  
.  
…………………………………..

The misted world hung heavily across her shielded eyes. The dark shroud of night hung with the stalking care of a wraith poised to strike. She gulped in a heavy breath, steadying the heady thrumming of her heart as it surged through her chest and forehead with wild abandon. The murky outline of trees and broken foliage lined the horizon on all sides, coupling with the solid mist to make the scene impassable. The heavy tug of thick fabric clung to the whispering fingers of dead trees beneath her feet. 

The stench of death was heady, filling the rotting landscape with dread and fear. She gagged as it clung to the inside of her throat possessively, burned at her eyes and touched its ghostlike fingers to the exposed skin of her shoulders. A dry sob wracked the ribcage from within, and the sound of her strangled voice startled even her at its hoarseness. 

There, beneath the tangled web of broken limbs and fallen stone, the eyes stared out at her. Their wide, terrified depths broke her skin in cold, writhing flesh, and filled the very bowels of her being with horror. She cried out, both afraid to make the sound and yet unable to muffle it through the sickening sense of guilt and shame. 

The eyes stared at her openly, mockingly; their accusing, somber gaze seemed to scream in rage and betrayal even as the ghostly hands gripped at her shivering flesh from all sides. The tearing of her skin burned and seared as the fingers tore deep into flesh and bone, her pain-filled screech seemed distant; too distant to be burning from deep within her chest as it was. The eyes filled her vision, blood red and burning with vengeance and hatred as the hands tore her limbs from her body.

Deep crimson spilled in great rivulets from her chest, directly from the source of her anguished cry. As cold, terrified blue eyes turned downward, they met with her restored fist, and a great black sword buried to the hilt in her ribs. Her scream was nothing but a gurgle of bright, fountaining pain that dripped down her chin and chest, mingling with the already inhumanly bright mess down her front. The pale fist blushed as the liquid drained slowly from her body, leaving nothing behind but the husk of her lifeless corpse, wrapped in the tatters of blue and white, and the dark, dark river of red.

“Sh, it’s alright,”

The strange voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once, sending a jolt through the motionless limbs splayed around her. She tried to gulp, to swallow, to breathe. Instead, she stared across the dead silvery ground that pressed deep into her skull like the executioners block, and waited.

“It’s alright.” The voice repeated itself over and over, the echoes going on for miles as her spinning; empty mind forced the words in and out again. The subtle, steady sound of distant footsteps was barely audible above the whispering, hateful wind. The dead ground burned cold into her face and body, the weight of the sword held her captive to the earth, though she fought with all her strength to move. All the while, the steady thrum drew closer and closer to her resting place.

The first touch to her shoulder was a firm strike of lightning on a solid tree. A deep breath rushed into her punctured lungs, forcing the blood out of their drowned innards. She tried to cry out, but there was no strength. The fear paralyzed her already dead flesh and pinned her very soul to the dirt below. The powerful, lightning filled hands lifted her doll-like body from the ground just enough to turn the world downward again. 

She gulped, feeling the air sizzle in her lungs and open wound with fiery indignation. The hands smoothed strands of hair from her face and chin, held her close enough to push the pain to the back of her mind. She breathed again, easier now. The retreating agony howled somewhere far distant. The air didn’t burn, nor did the weight of the blade tear at her so deeply.

“It will be alright.”

Warm lips pressed to the gentle crook of her brow and nose, soft and reassuring. Groggily, she tried to pull her eyes apart long enough to see who her would-be assailant was. The soft kiss was familiar, and sweet, and kind. The sensation of an age-old gesture returning from the ashes seemed to break the hold of slumber.

The second kiss fell against her cheek as she groaned heavily, fighting with the soft weight of fabric and sleep and the lingering taste of fear somewhere in the back of her throat. She groaned, more from exhaustion than anything, and turned. The surprising lack of constraint on her arms and legs was enough to send both blue eyes flying open and into darkness.

A figure barely made of shadow and night hovered close enough to share breath before the strangely familiar weight of lips pressed to hers. Panicked, slightly confused and fairly sure she was still dreaming somehow, Usagi instantly seemed to lose all power over her body and simply allowed the stranger to do as he would.

Reality lay suspended in the midnight air for a moment, her gentle captor pulling the groggy thoughts steadily downward till she was almost sure it was all a dream. The kiss was not wild or passionate or hungered, as she would have expected from Mamoru; but held a gentle pleading, and a deep sort of gracious longing that the other seemed to lack. There was a deep attraction, and a languishing for much more, but it was content and quiet lodged somewhere in the back of her mind.

The soft kiss ended, the sudden loss of pressure at her neck informing her that it had been there at all as the shadow faded instantly into the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. She gulped, slowly needling herself to a sitting position on the bed. 

The room was still. Luna’s pitch black body was a lump of softly breathing darkness beside her bed and the shadowed moon filtered in through window, branch, and cloud. The shifting covers whispered in the darkness as tiny white feet touched the soft ground and padded toward the open air. Mid spring flowers bloomed, filling the night with their soft scent, and the mist of the nearby ocean filled the late night with ethereal haze. She gulped, pressing her hand to the window frame and searching the darkness for any sign of an intruder.

“En….”  
.  
.  
…………………………..

The stark, late afternoon sun burned through dingy windows with hellfire. Legions of dusty stacks stood at attention on all sides. Bloody afternoon light fumed red through the haze of freakish crimson coated clouds. Even now, it brought with it the phantom-like screams from the dark corners of his sleepless mind. The somber smoking of indigo eyes smoldered through the gore of the dying sun and into a darkened corner. A film of rancid metallic coating itched the inside of his mouth.

It stung. A sleepless night rampaging through the darkened streets of Tokyo could not erase the screams. His dream last night had been anything but a battle, yet the aftertaste was like licking a wound. Though the patrol had given him ample opportunity to vent on a few of society’s less desirables, it did not and could not explain the sudden loss of vivacity. He could not tear the image of that one fallen petal crushed between thumb and forefinger in horrified shock.

The hot brand of irritation sizzled in a forge of aching futility. He had searched for her for hours, grasping in vain at the familiar tug that would not come. It was the one thing that would beckon him to her side like a magnet to true north –impassible, immoveable, and utterly unreachable.

He shifted, wiping the exhaustion from his aching eyes with stiff, stubborn fingers. The rose was dying slowly, and the beastly story was playing over and over in the back of his mind. He had heard somewhere that fairy tales –the old ones anyway, were powerful. Their time-tested tellings were roadmaps into the unknown; significant in any age because of their complexity. He couldn’t help but wonder if the sudden stress of his gift was the beginning of the end for them.

They hadn’t seen each other since Valentines. It had been months, now, and finals were closing in. He should have prepared more for them, but as with last semester school had been a side thought to the real issue. She had been so sad. As much as he would love to admit that last night’s escapades were the first of their kind, it would be a lie. His feet had stalked the city streets in the murky hours between sunlight like an apparition, searching for trouble in the hopes of seeing her.

It had done wonders for his image as the mysterious half-ally of the Senshi, and yet had given little in anything else. Motoki had urged him to do kind things for others in the hopes that it would help hone those humane instincts within him. Every back alley rescue made him feel like a bad comic book remake, and none of it inspired the same softness that Moon did. Besides, at least as the hero, he didn’t have to worry about girls chasing after him anymore.

He sighed, rubbing at his weary face and shifted in the hard, uncomfortable seat. The Crown’s backroom was dingy and dark, and loaded to the brim with dusty boxes, which did little favors for his watery, irritated eyes. Though he sat alone amidst the faceless crates, the scarlet light and hazy vision was still echoing with dark screams of terror and pain. It was driving him slowly mad.

Finally, the endless white sheets bubbled across the table before him like a death tome. There were so many of them to review, and Motoki should be getting off his shift soon. After having sat back here for an hour, he still had not bothered to touch even one of their simpering words. He had meant to pull himself together, take some time to drown out the other thoughts raging within the confines of his skull enough to function as a human man again. It hadn’t worked. 

He reached forward, spreading the papers out dealer-style across the table in thoughtless abandon. One slid easily into his hand, a claptrap of musings and irritating grammar mistakes. The flood of exasperation swelled with every line; so much that the thoughts themselves became a laundry list of problems. The paper was set aside with a smoldering red grade etched at the top. He reached for another, noting quickly that the solid, foundational ideas of the class were completely lost in a rainfall of pointless chatter. How these students could make it through a regular high school class was beyond him.

Sizzling anger thrust another paper into his lap, only to add to the growing heat. Every student must be completely incapable of using a spellchecker. He didn’t even bother grading it. Rather, his eye caught the one sheet handwritten on lined paper, and the rage boiled to the surface. He squashed the emotionally packed memories of that girl in his apartment, the hurricane-like frustration and fear and hate that had riddled him afterwards. Rather than dwell on any of those things, he felt his whole body clenching in frustration. 

The paper was coated in orange cheese powder, grease, and soda. It was like she hadn’t even bothered to write it at home! If anything, the stupid girl had gone to the arcade with her friends, remembered at the last minute it was due, and wrote it on her napkin. Which happened to be lined paper. He glared accusingly at the cheese stains as if the demons of hell lay in their orange, powdered souls.

If there was one thing Mamoru could not stand, it was people eating in class. Secondly, it was people sleeping in class, and thirdly, people reading material other than the assigned. Odango Atama seemed to be the grandmaster of all three annoying habits, and despite all efforts against them, continued to be. It was grating, and angering, and finally, completely hopeless. He’d made her stand in the hall, he’d made her clean extra after class, and made her the librarian, and made her take attendance, and a million other things. The girl simply refused to do what was needed!

“Why won’t she just stop eating in class!?” He exploded as the backroom door slid open. Motoki paused in curiosity at the outburst, eyeing the table in confusion before settling himself into a seat. The blond man shrugged, flipping a page over as he did so. The rustle in the quiet was a stark contrast to the irrational outburst. Motoki could only shake his head in wonder. Mamoru was becoming more human everyday –even down to the anger issues.

“Maybe because she’s burning ridiculous amounts of calories every day. And she’s got blood sugar problems, Mamoru.” With casual precision, the white knight broke through the rage with a surgeon’s touch, and snagged the one piece of dying softness. 

“Does she?” Mamoru blinked, not quite sure he’d heard correctly. The girl did run everywhere she went, this was true. He never knew she had health problems, though, she was just a kid.

“Yeah. That’s why you ended up carrying her to the Crown last fall.” The pompous fury that had lit within his friend’s chest snuffed out, quickly deflating back to what Motoki could only guess was indifference. That face was so trained to be a cool, lifeless mask that it simply reverted without any effort on Mamoru’s part. 

“…oh.” Downtrodden, maybe even a little bashful, the man cleared his throat and tried to force his way back to irritation. The sudden deflation of all of his anger left him winded and confused, and nowhere he thought he’d be when discussing the strange girl. “Well, I guess I can’t begrudge her that. But why sleep in class and read manga? That’s just as annoying.”

“She runs everywhere. All that energy has to give in at some point. The manga, however, is really inexcusable. I’ll talk to her about it.” The red pencil flicked and spun in Motoki’s hand as he spoke, but his eyes were glued to the page before him. The man simmered quietly to himself, grasping for any reason to be angry still. The sudden appearance of his friend had washed the bloody landscape from his mind, leaving only the soft buzzing of a light from above, and the steady stacks of boxes all around them. Outside, hazy twilight filled the windows with grey softness. He sighed finally, allowing the frustration to slip and drain through his aching legs into the uncaring ground. 

Moon still haunted him, but the urgency had dissipated with the dying sun. He felt leaden. As much as he wanted desperately to find the Senshi, it would be no use until the next battle. He had known as much before, but there had been no escaping the instantaneous and overpowering need to do anything rather than wait. Exhaustion was slipping in beneath the sudden void of rage. Rather than admit defeat, he promptly shoved the mess aside and reached for the first driveling paper.

It didn’t take long for the author to fade from his mind again. The essay itself was probably better than several others in the stack, but even that couldn’t tear his mind away. He slid a bright red comma between a few words, knowing even as he did that the line would work without one. If only the Senshi could be called out right now, and save him from the madness looming on the horizon.

“What are you working on?” he asked finally, ready for any distraction. Motoki paused mid bite.

“One of her papers, actually. It’s got some grammar issues, but the ideas are really good.” Another fry slid into his mouth and the world was silent again. 

“Oh? Any of them on the merits of Sailor V?” Mamoru tried to keep the irony from his voice as he considered the possibility of Odango saying anything worthwhile. Motoki glanced up briefly without amusement.

“No.”

Even the subtle din of traffic seemed hushed. It was so quiet without the attacks, the Senshi to fill the world with sound. Even the bloodlit sun spoke of battles to come, of screams, of horror. It was silent, yet the promise hung in the air now. The promise of war, of revenge. And through it all, the vision of golden sunlit hair.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Motoki ventured. It was a reminder of the present, of the pile of papers and fries and thoughts and expectations. His skull began to ache.

“Yes. She’s terrified of me.”

“Give her some time. Through her eyes, you should have found her already and the longer you take, the more she thinks you hate her too. Just get to know her, then look for that same person here.” Motoki’s concerned eyes stared through him, leaden with meaning. It had crossed Mamoru’s mind several times that his friend might know the real identity of his obsession. Was it reading between the lines to ask a simple question in response?

“But we’re in the arcade.” 

“You know what I meant, Mamoru. Don’t dodge the subject.” It was no use, the blonde’s reaction was hardly distinctive. He rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head negatively before returning to the paper before him.

Shrugging, the darker man returned himself, flicking a pen between thumb and forefinger in hopeless loss. It was no use trying to pump his friend for answers about her. Either he knew everything and felt obliged to protect her, which bothered him to no end, or he was simply offering generic advice. 

A concussive sound boomed low enough to rattle pavement, and sent cups and plates flying into the already rocking ground. A thrill of panic shot through his mind as he fought to gain his balance again. The ground was shifting, walls were beginning to crumble at the seams, and the shattered glass tinkled across the floor threateningly. Motoki hollered in frustration as he slipped and fell, and Mamoru could hear the crunch of glass under his weight.

The second boom hit closer, so quickly in sequence it almost felt like afterschock. The bare moment of silence between them was spent trying to figure out if the earth had shifted or been attacked. Dark blue eyes fled to the streets in concern, noting that several car crashes had appeared, and people littered the broken ground. Shit, he’d have to move fast, and Motoki was probably injured.

“Oi! You alright?” he called, shifting his eyes through the instant haze broken ceiling had created. The room was in tatters, many of the booths had been crushed, or coated in broken glass from the shattered window. He gingerly stepped around a fizzing light fixture, intent to find his friend among the rubble.

“Hai! Oh crap-nuggets,” the shuddering blond head lifted, and with it a sheet of dust fell hazily to the floor. 

“What’s going on?” Mamoru asked, lifting a heavy beam out off the table with apparent ease. In a moment of realization, he was grateful the other man knew. Otherwise this situation would have been more complicated. Not that it would have stopped him from helping, but it would have proven a good waste of time in the explanations department.

“I smashed my new glass! Not that it matters. What are you still doing here?”

“What?” He blinked in confusion, staring at the rubble where the arcade used to stand. The familiar walls lay in heaps of broken drywall and shattered picture frames on all sides. The separating wall from storage and arcade had fallen in, but thankfully no one seemed to have noticed the feat in all the confusion. Within moments the rush of her transformation shrieked within his ribcage. The echoing howl between his skull was enough to drive him to his knees. Visions of fluttering white burned against retina and skin and bone, setting his teeth on edge as everything swam in red. 

“Hello! Earth to Mamoru! Problem!” It was several moments later when he realized Motoki had been screaming at him from across the fractured remains of the small backroom, bringing the flurry of images to a screeching halt. The manager’s face was set in a furious scowl, part horror, part worry. Mamoru gulped, unsure exactly what had happened moments before, but there were no words to explain all the things burning through his veins.

“Just…making sure you’re ok.” Motoki started. The words caught somehow between his ribs, lodging a subtle fear within his chest. There was no time to argue, no time to think about how to answer his friend. Moon was out there, and shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. 

He didn’t bother to try and find a place to change, simply pulled the chaotic shadows from the ground below. Rubble fell away in heaps as he leapt from the scene, forcing his hands into the broken chunks of brick and cement, and hefting himself up onto the unsteady rooftop beside him. The shrill cry of those caught below still haunted the dying sunlit air.

The scene stretched across the broken street like a grizzly Hollywood war movie. He breathed once, surveying the bodies that clumped across the ground in ruddy patched. The ominous crack of Jupiter’s lightning sizzled the air with light for a bare moment, bringing his eyes up from the carnage. There, further up the street, a sudden streak of deep green flitted past his eyes, signaling another round of heavenly retribution to burst the clouds overhead.

He glanced back, viewing the upheaval of cement that would block EMT vehicles, and took aim. The Senshi could handle a Youma for another minute while he did what he could for those left alive. Ripping a smart phone from the ground, he hit the panic button and turned to release hell on the barrier. The blocks burst outward and into the open store fronts and alleys. 

It wasn’t much, but the small sense of satisfaction was cut short as the ground beneath him began to shiver. The aftermath of Mars’ fire was still rampaging along the ground as the Youma slithered behind a large SUV 400 yards away. Rather than bother with Mars; who, he would add, was quiet evenly matched and would probably win anyway, he continued on.

The ruptured street told a violent, inhuman story as he raced passed scorch marks and large divots dug out of the cement. The fight had moved further and further down, and had gotten more and more violent as it went. Rough and shattered ground gave way to flaming cars and fallen street lamps. Somewhere far above the carnage, the squeaking voice of Mercury was pitching orders into the fray before a blanket of fog smothered sight and sound completely.

He slid into an alley once he thought the Youma was within throwing distance. The Dark Kingdom had never done this much damage to the city before, and he was sure the victims hadn’t been as mutilated as those people had. His mind was caught between formulating a plan, and hoping what he’d done would be enough to help at least a few. 

“Oh, a little mist? Yes, I’m so afraid of the dark…” the voice was thin and malicious, and echoed through the unforgiving fog on specter’s paws. He strained to see through the mess, sliding his cane free. The speaker was close. The familiar timbre was almost hallucinogenic, and brought to mind a sudden vision of white pillars.

He threw the image with a violent shake of his head. Rather than dwell on the oddball thought, the cane was gripped close with trained precision as he waited for the ponderous footsteps. The haze made it difficult to gauge the uniform sound, especially as a fireball ignited the air to sizzling not far ahead. Still, he waited, carefully controlling each breath. His only attack needed a clear target, and if there was some way to knock the general off his feet…

He sprang, brandishing the weapon as if it were an age old sword, and met the calm steady hand of his enemy. A sudden burst of wind cleared the scene and drenched the surprising twist in reality. Silver-gray eyes hardened to stoic flint, glaring halfheartedly for a moment before the wind stole with it the fluttering white of his mask.

“You.” 

The ominous word whipped harshly through the street, taking with it any sense of certainty he had left. That solid, lifeless gaze froze from the inside. A heady sense of déjà vu shuddered between his shoulder blades and drained the blood from his face. He knew this man, this new general. The icy thrust of death swam in foggy tendrils through his chest.

“The princess! Moon, go!” Mars screamed, just enough to break the locked gaze and sent both pairs of eyes flying up the street. The golden-haired warrior was bounding toward Zoicite with her crescent wand trailing in one arm. The fireball erupted just beneath her feet as she cleared a rooftop and charged toward the dark kingdom General in wild abandon. Kamen felt himself smile; infinitely proud of her fearless demeanor.

“No, you don’t.” The white-haired man murmured, turning to race after her. A single white glove was lost in the mane of hair momentarily, before a quick smash left the bleeding general a pile at his feet. Kamen took a bare moment to wipe at a splash of blackened blood on the side of the building before taking off down the street.

He dodged beneath a bolt of shimmering electricity, leapt over a fireball and burst through the smoke just long enough to watch Moon trip over a pigtail and go down. Zoicite’s laugh barked across the battlefield, bringing with it the sting of a thousand razored petals. The dark savior dove for the struggling girl, quickly covering her form with his cloak. The petals swirled around them momentarily, attacking again and again the black shroud without effect. He grimaced within the soft haven, catching her eye just enough to wink.

He laughed, loving how the freckled tops of her cheeks glowed red in the twilight. The forced onslaught stilled moments later, effectively ending any chance for conversation. After so much time spent fighting together, it was a quiet look that passed between them before the wall of red fell.

The dying sunlight burst inward, highlighted by a dazzling explosion next to the general’s foot. Moon leapt, her tiara held burning in her left hand as she dove for her enemy’s chest. The effeminate man stepped back, gasping in shock as the Senshi dove expertly toward him before lifting his arms in defense. A shard of livid green ripped across his hands moments later, tacked down by a blushing red flower. The angered howl was cut short as Moon descended in a deadly arc. 

The clash of shrieking metal ripped through the falling night sky. The ghostly general’s blade cracked against the spinning disk, sending shards of burning light skittering through the air. To see the phantom general so soon after their last encounter left a cool chill in the flat of Kamen’s back. Added with the vision of Moon fighting him alone, it was too much to consider. 

Moon spun to whip a kick into her enemy’s face. The general dodged, catching the back of her knee in a quick swipe and twisting. The girl fell in a heap at his feet. Kamen was already moving, the cane whipping though the air to smack against the animate corpse with a hollow thud. 

Without another thought, he leapt forward, brandishing the cane as neatly as a blade to pry the dark General from her side. Kunzite –he didn’t know where the name had come from- fought back with only one hand. The billowing grey and white cape masked his movements, and the specter distracted Kamen from landing any damaging blows to his opponent. 

The gloved hand smashed into Kamens face, sent him headlong through the air to crunch against the side of the building. Agony scorched along his side and skull as the heap tumbled altogether against solid stone. The battle must have raged on without him for some time. A cocaphone of musical blasts and grunts filled his spinning ears as the world tilted back into focus.  
.  
.  
………………………………….

The warrior watched in mute satisfaction as the shadowed hero fell. Wind swept a sudden rush of gold across the scene, hiding the frantic movements of the Senshi below. The only sight to be focused on filled the sentinel with pride and admiration, a glowing report that even words could not express. Her matching pigtails swung outward as the glowing discus burned a wicked arc through the falling night. Her opponent barely dodged the attack, and not without some small help from the taller general.

As opposed as she had been in the beginning to follow through with her advisor’s plan, Artemis had been the wiser of them. Moon’s form was almost perfect. There was no indication from his feline counterpart on what had changed her from the carefree child she had been. A part of Venus was troubled greatly at the change. Her charge should never have had to be inflicted with this fight. It was unnatural and disturbing, and strangely fitting. Perhaps if She had been forced to raise her hands in defense, the past would not have…

Moon’s scream ruptured the thought as Zoicite and Kunzite descended in unison. With the tiara knocked free from her hands, and the shining girl cornered on the rooftop, Venus had little time to reconsider her actions.

“Stop!” She cried, pulling on her ancient powers to draw a golden glow from within. The false tattoo blazed eerily just beyond her vision. The dying sun gasped its last breath from behind her, igniting the already hazy glow to an inferno. The combatants froze mid-movement, blades drawn, and turned to her. It was a small relief, as they were still crouched over Moon’s form. “By order of Princess Serenity. You’re fight is with me.”  
.  
.  
………………………..

Despite the crushing headache, and the sweet lightshow that followed, Kamen felt himself more worried that hurt. Moon would be defenseless with the other Senshi covering ground below. He shook the resulting dizziness away, and was rewarded with her terrified screech. His eyes still wouldn’t focus, but the menacing shadows loomed across the broken rooftop. A curse died in his throat as a shining force lit the darkened world, and with it drove the silence away.

The glowing woman was standing at rigid attention on the rooftop, her clear voice ringing through the battlefield. It was his first good look at the one who had devastated his sleeping schedule for months now, and the sight was strangely otherworldly. The long golden tresses shimmered and burned, yes, but her face was not what he would have expected from millennia-old nobility. If anything, she had the look and style of a 50’s Hollywood actress with her blood red lips and sassy pose. 

Disgust filtered through his being in every fiber, leaving a rancid taste in the back of his mouth. All those nightmares, all those sleepless nights for just another ridiculous... He could have puked. Of all the kinds of women she could have possibly been, and of all the times he could have possibly run into her. Well, the one consolation to be had was the fact that she pretended to be a Senshi. Whether or not that made her worthy of the title was left to be discovered.

It took Kunzite no more than 30 seconds to latch his cold, bleeding hands around her throat from behind, and rip the girl down from her post. She fell without another sound, just as easily as she’d ascended before. It may as well have been her death sentence, for all the emotion it inspired in him. Rather than waste his time trying to make sense of the apathy, he lunged forward.

“Princess!” Mars screamed from the ground, nursing her wounded shoulder in one hand. The charcoal black mass of her hair pooled on the ground beside her, covering the flaming red skirt in a play of color. He gulped, shaking his head at the sight. The euphoria burned his brain with fever. Moon was still fighting, her burning tiara flashing in one hand while Zoicite parried with a crystal blade. Jupiter boomed in the effort of summoning the crackling power from above, her movements as slow and laborious as his pain-filled eyes could follow.

There, above it all hung the glowing figure of a woman dressed in white and gold. Her hair flapped in the breeze and shimmered with inner light. Blazing from her forehead lay the birthmark of the ancient Goddess’ lineage, the golden white aura of the Elders themselves. Behind her glory-streaming body stood the last Dark Kingdom general, the blatant mortality of his figure standing like a pale shadow in comparison to the shining apparition.

Tuxedo Kamen waited for the familiar rush of images to surge to the forefront of his mind, carrying with them the icy cold fingers of the other world. They never came. The beautiful woman clothed in light looked every inch a Goddess, and yet there was something itching in the back of his mind. 

The general cackled in glee as the ground beneath them began to shimmer and fade. The recently freed Senshi squealed momentarily, losing their footing as the rooftop gave way to shuddering blackness. The low whine of shearing metal ruptured into the darkening night air, tearing reality quickly from it’s hinges. 

“You want your precious princess? Come get her.” He growled, whipping her frail body downward into the yawning depths below. The ground howled a warning upward, not to be daunted by the entrance of the Senshi into the Dark Kingdom. Mars was the first to leap headfirst into the pit, the raven black hair trailing after her. Kamen hardly wasted time, watching the others follow suite immediately after the fire guardian.

The darkness led infinitely downward in jagged, cutting lines. The Senshi were running hard, obviously much more excited for the revelation of their ridiculous princess than he ever could be. It wasn’t like her arrival would tell him exactly where this stupid Ginzuisho was; not to mention the fact she’d expect him to get it for her. It was like watching the finale of a tv show he was being forced to watch –only to find out there was a season two.

“Lapsing.” He huffed, chasing after the others. 

He turned the last bend, watching as the wild explosion of colors lit on multifaceted walls. The sight neatly ripped the vision from his eyes and replaced it with blind, searing pain. The girls were screaming, both in defiance and irritation at the richocette. He would wait till the blurry sparks left his retina, listen for the sound of Moon going down. There was no reason to rush into the fray just yet.

The sharp tearing of a blade struck through the thin fabric of skin and grew through his chest in one slick movement. Fire, ice, crushing weight bore down on him from all sides as an arm gripped his neck and pulled. The frozen blade twisted, sending every nerve in his body raving mad.

“A parting gift, Kamen, with…love.” Zoicite murmured somewhere behind him. The words were lost in concussive, grinding torture as the blade ripped suddenly backwards. The arm evaporated, the world suddenly came rushing upward to meet his darkening eyes as the cold sensation of liquid dripped down his chest from a thousand miles away. The sounds of battle faded as all things came to an end.

A chill unlike any other rippled across Sailor Moon’s skin with a sudden pop so deep, it could only be the end of all things. She froze mid-movement, her throat suddenly closed. Her head whipped raggedly to one side, just long enough to see the bloody sword finish it’s retreat. Tuxedo Kamen sagged limply, giving first at the knees before crashing heavily into the ground. 

The sudden thrust of wintery ice crushed against Moon’s lungs, broke across her skin in feverish sweat and pin-prickled skin. She dropped instantly, sucking in great gasps of breath against the sudden tearing sensation, the hysterical sense of blood dripping from her gaping chest. She struggled to move, reaching for her front with numb fingers to find the wound, only to realize nothing was there. 

“What the hell?” Her confused whisper was lost the sounds of battle, the newest Senshi’s attack, and the general who seemed to be invincible. She glanced around, still struggling to her knees. There, not 15 feet away, lay the rumpled form clothed in shadows. The ground was dark and wet, the pristine white gloves had been stained…stained…

A wail began somewhere far away. It blotted sound from the air, sucked the fire from the earth, suspended broken shards of cave wall to hover uncertainly in the air. The warriors clapped hands to ears in vain, for the sound bore strait to the bone, rattled and hummed within the very sinew of their flesh. The world tilted drunkenly as the scream finally reached the crescendo in a terrible, heart wrenching end. The shear wall of sound reverberated against earth and stone, and sent chunks of rotting ceiling crashing down to the ground. 

The slow rumbling began deep in the earth, a perfect counterpoint to the sirenic scream of pain and longing that echoed across millennia. The Senshi fell in domino slow motion as the ground responded to the power suddenly pooling toward the small figure. Magnetic, the light followed as moths to sudden flame, bringing the world to stark contrast of utter white and complete blackness.

A tiny sliver of light began building from the pinpoint of her forehead, the shimmering river of tears sparkled diamonds in the white-hot flare that grew till it filled every pore and crevice of the once dark hall. The micro tears of reality began to bend and flare, sending sparks of power billowing through the gloom. Shadow and silver light marbled across the air as the glow steadied.

Zoicite’s grey-clad arm lowered momentarily, peering through the blinding light to the shimmering figure hovering in the middle of the room. The flickering outlines of a womanly figure differentiated from the pool as if she were being materialized directly from the powerful radiance. Evanescent silvery hair whipped across the expanse, filling the room momentarily before trailing upward.

Pale feet touched the ground like the setting of a bomb, shattering the ground beneath them before the shining woman came forward. With each step, the heavy whipcrack of broken rock boomed across the shattered remains of their battleground. Her hand rose, crackling blue eyes opened to a ricochet of white hot light springing from her fingers. The blonde general was thrown back, smashing heavily into an already compromised cave wall. The rock crumbled beneath the weight of the blow and tumbled downward to sheath the remaining corpse. 

Her tear filled eyes turned to the other general. The weight of her broken, fierce gaze filled the expanse between them with preternatural, leaden promise. 

A wicked grin veiled his features and the sword turned resolutely to the preternatural figure. Two heavy steps beat the ground before he froze, a look of carnal rage shifting in his eyes. His angry mutter slithered through the space unheard before he drew his cloak up and soaked deeply into shadow. The Senshi began to shift in awe, slowly regaining their footing as the strange woman turned toward the fallen hero once more.

The faint outline of an ancient dress began somewhere within the powerful glow, hinting across one shoulder to trail long behind her. The pregnant corona of light shifted, settling downward as the luminous being knelt. The blackened void of Kamen’s suit collided against brilliant scintillation. The two atmospheres struggled a bare moment, the light of order, and shadows of chaos trapped within one perfect capsule of time. 

A single incandescent hand trailed across the soft stubble of his chin to leak down the strong neck. The sudden heart wrenching sob lynched sodden cave air in a hangman’s noose; the taste of it was thick and powerful enough to snag in the throat. Palpable tears soaked the air densely as the fingers finally rested above the gaping maw of blood and flesh and torn red cloth. 

Endymion…

The words shimmered though air and mind at the same time, not spoken so much as bidden. The figures were engulfed in a silver blaze. The powerful blowback knocked the Senshi across the cavern floor.

The tumultuous burning sensation writhed through his being straight into the core of him. It went on and on, so hot he melted to nothingness beneath the tirade. The endless, falling void filling the world with incandescent white light, battering every particle of him with a buzzing, fiery energy that spread across the nothingness that used to be him. It was like screaming forever, falling into the blazing glory of the sun, rocketing through the atmosphere of the earth like a white comet only to explode against the rocky face in a fury of power and destruction.

The soft administration of lips against his was the first scintillating sensation striking at his core. A soft pressure expanded across his chest all at once before lifting. The gentle pressure of fingers against his chin and face where the whip crack of reality as his brain fizzled to life. Images of a lifetime long past whirred throughout his mind, too quick to catch. It was a black hole of memories laced with pain, longing, love. He fell, deep into the darkness like a stone to a chasm. The steady rumble of power shook the ground beneath him, accented by the billowing silver light from above. He blinked, watching in fascination as the source shimmered in multi-faceted glory before fading again.

“S-Serenity!” he breathed, mouth feeling alien and sluggish. Her shimmering eyes opened, tear ridden and heavy. He couldn’t bear the memory of her bright smile against the fearful, sad one that greeted him. Her soft, silver-blue eyes trailed to his chest momentarily, drawing his gaze with them. The solid black plate armor met his eyes, a strange tightness caught at his torso as he breathed once. There, spread across the aristocratic curves of her long fingers, splattered the grim stain of red.

He gulped, drawing a shaky breath and pushing himself upward to grip the elegant curve of her wrist in horror. 

“You’re hurt…” He began, shifting to his knees quickly. The memories of battle were fresh and bright at the forefront of his mind; that his Goddess should be wounded right beside him was too much… She quieted him, her eyes soft and concerned. 

“It’s yours, Endymion. I’m alright.” As an afterthought, he smoothed one hand across the plate at his chest. Yes, there had been a twinge of pain there, but it was gone now. The shimmering goddess folded easily against him as he quickly scanned the large cavern around them. The last thing he remembered was Kunzite with a disease-ridden black blade hanging from his limp hand. 

“The Guardians…” his goddess whispered, lifting her head to peer into the darkness. He turned, ready to reach for his sword should they attack. The four flickering pillars remained motionless, suspended above the broken and rocky ground with their eyes sealed. The vision was both horrifying and mesmerizing. The legendary power of the gods could not be matched by any but an Elder. The four had been chosen by the king of heaven himself to guard his titan niece. A sudden shudder of dread pierced the flesh between his shoulder blades. Statuesque, the figures loomed over them like their death sentence, waiting for a moment to scream for his head.

“How did we get here?” the confused tremor in her voice worried him. Memories were beginning to simmer up from the darkness, images that disturbed and confused him. He stood, the rumbling clack of his boots on stone a solid reminder of his own mortal situation. The goddess all but floated upward, her feet never quite touching the dirty ground.

Endymion took a few cautious steps forward, wary eyes trained for any movement from the glowing child of Venus. Her form shimmered, hands resting lightly on the pommel of a great sword. Any moment, he feared her heated golden eyes would snap open, and the fury of the Gods would consume him. Serenity was still and quiet in his arms, save the flowing of her robes in the unseen wind.

“Interesting choice of leader, don’t you think my love?” he whispered finally. It had often bothered him in the past to think of this. Why wasn’t the daughter of Zeus himself the leader of their little band? And this particular gathering of powers…he grimaced quietly. How could he have been so blind?

“What do you mean?”

“Love, foresight, wisdom and power. The Gods weren’t worried about an attack…they feared us.” He paused, following the thought through. “Think Serenity; Zeus’ own daughter would have been the perfect commander of an armed guard. Yet this one, her powers almost entirely mimicking her mothers, is chosen. Her second in command is the powers of foresight. He did not trouble himself on the thought of your safety so much as…”

“He feared the love that would signal the end of his rule.” A dark voice murmured just barely above the hum of power around them. As one, the couple turned toward the dimly lit recesses and peered uncertainly into the darkness. The subtle shift of cavern and air sizzled a cold fire from the obscurity; the stark flash of silver twinkled unevenly as the figure loomed closer.

The dark, time-burned umber eyes of the final Guardian crackled against the fabric of reality. The deep eternal green of her Senshi attire all but melded against dark cinnamon-bark skin. Eons passed through her care-worn gaze, the weight of it pulling the long wealth of forbidden emerald hair deep into the time gates themselves. Endymion had only met the sovereign of time once, and it was not without an infinite sense of awe. As dark and terrible as her father, her tall frame seemed to dwarf their rocky prison. He refused the sudden shiver clawing between his shoulders, and released his beloved Goddess long enough to bow.

“Lady Setsuna… your attire…” The stunned goddess began, her tone unguarded and perplexed. The visage was familiar, but from a memory far away. The Senshi nodded, the dark garnet of her eyes grave. 

“Yes. It has been an age, Serenity. You have been dearly missed.” The moon princess nodded, unable to respond to the strange greeting. “And his Highness, Prince Endymion of the Terran Empire. How long we have waited for you.” those same stern, unimpassioned eyes turned to her companion. It came with an odd sense of mockery, though Serenity could have sworn on her life that no such sense existed in the woman before them.

“Yes, I’m sure you have. No visit from your father then? I’m disappointed.” His tone was just as cool, and far more flippant. His fingers sought her waist, more for the need of her skin than any sense of comfort. She cast eyes on them both, wondering at the odd exchange between the two who had never before met.

“He is passed, so far as his dealings with this world are concerned. It is with me you must now begin the reckoning.” The staff echoed against the solid ground beneath her feet, the ominous music ringing through the small cavern to permeate stone. 

“Reckoning?” Serenity breathed in confusion, continuing to look from one to the other uncertainly. Her memories were returning now, hazy and distant. The only scene to present itself distinctly was the secret nuptials that had crowned them in the ruins so long ago…and yet… The sudden memory of icy cold through her chest left her breathless, reaching upward to gingerly test her skin in abject horror. Though the flesh remained unbroken, the scabbed memory of a blade ghosting through nailed her to the ground. There was love and passion, but also visions of blood, of screaming kin and the death cry of her Senshi guardians. The recollections were vivid splashes of color on canvas. So dark, so horrifying were these that even the shadowed cavern and all it’s occupants drifted away.

The world she had known was gone. All the beautiful silver fountains, the lush glades of rolling silver wheat, the soft and weightless air of her home where she had been loved and cared for. Maybe in looking back, her thoughts were broken then. How she longed for the soft and sweet gaze of her young mother, the quiet babble of elegant birds in the sea. That she would never again hear the call of one so loved and missed, or view the splendor that once thrived in her home brought a heartache so tangible it was all she could do not to cry out in despair.

Now, the silver pillars were splashed in blood, the cry of a child cut short within a menacing cackle. The burning, hellfire eyes of her enemy had been shadowed by a power far more sinister than she had ever seen. Snake-like, the woman had slithered closer, hissed her greeting. The memory of her scaly, crimson spattered skin froze the very blood within her, and sent the flash of past hurtling away from her mind’s eyes. The weight of the blade still clung to her, forced breath from her lungs. Desperately, wanting nothing more than to wash the vision of his broken, lifeless body in her arms, she sought his face beside her.

“…Contract is binding, one you signed of your own free will.” Setsuna’s empty, unfaltering drone boomed despite it’s muted tone. The realization that she had missed something big eased the pulsing memories back enough to focus once more. She grimaced, nervously biting at her lip as the exchange unfolded. 

“He swore he would give us a Binding. He swore that we would face this challenge together.” Endymion’s hell black locks sucked in the light from behind them, and his dark eyes shimmered with anger. The sudden tenseness of his fingers at her waist were alarming. They were angry, shouting in words rather than volumes as she would have with her Senshi. The mortal man would not back down or cower from the unmistakable Goddess before him. The returned anger from the time guardian was equally as intense, though it reflected in her emerald-shadowed aura.

“Your seal stands. But know this, dark prince, that the Fates themselves are no friend of yours. This first test they have set for you has all but broken you from each other. All with parlor tricks, age-old and well used. Should the binding break entirely, both must fulfill the measure of their contract regardless.”

“Wait, Setsuna, please. What contract? What binding?”

The heavy burden of ages settled across him as his goddess awaited explanation. He could not bear to look into her wide, confused silver eyes at the memory. She had always been so gentle, so soft. She had never posed a threat despite her Titan heritage. It was the only reason she had not been overthrown and cast into the pit of Tartarus at the new Age. Had he known that she would be forced to fight as well…he never would have agreed to such an ordination.

“I signed a contract with Kronos the night of our wedding. We are to serve as protectors of this world for all time.” 

The hollow, forlorn words left his lips as if the confession were somehow natural. The impossibility raged against her conscious. Such things could not be done. Such things surely could not be undone. His hazy, confused night eyes were shadowed with frustration, longing. The turn of his mouth gave no evidence of a joke, nor did his demeanor speak of mirth. 

“That’s silly, Endmion. Why would you do such a thing? What could he have possibly offered…” the air froze within her throat. His cobalt orbs were intent and riddled with darkness as he stared at her, the muscle in his jaw visibly tightened. She gulped, turning to the time guardian with a distant sort of fascinated horror. The sonic realization boomed through her mind, siphoning the visions both past and present into nothingness.

Her. Kronos had offered her.

“Yes. A Binding spell, sealing you together forever.” 

The words echoed, more so than any she had spoken earlier. Dizzying images began to swim toward the light of her conscious mind, bringing with them a wrenching sense of injustice. The flood of pain, all the remorse and heartbreak Usagi had gone through over the years of knowing him flooded upward, choking her, tearing her down. It brought images of his icy stare, the cold so fierce it burned from within…The hopelessness of these feelings, and the sudden, wrenching end it had come to. She gulped, forcing the tears down as each successive memory howled through her mind. A spell that should have brought every good and beautiful thing in this world twisted into a curse so terrible it would crush her in every lifetime, every time she saw him. Forever.

The weight of her discovery squeezed the air from her lungs. More than anything, the images brought with them the knowledge of his indifference. The most recent of them all was seeing him stand beside a white rose, his face as calm and collected and distant as she had ever seen it. He had spoken those words, as if nothing could ever be done to change their situation. It was the most telling of all of them; and she felt herself shiver away from his touch, from his side.

“Endymion. What have you done?” she could remember thinking, so many times as Usagi, that she never wanted to care for him at all. The feelings of entrapment had run wild from the beginning, that false tug on her heart had been nothing more than a superficial spell from an age long gone. The worse of it all, though, was the knowledge that even despite the fact; in her heart she loved him anyway.

The revelation was a laceration of crimson-encrusted trauma that could never be washed from her soul. Even when she could have chosen otherwise, even when she might have untangled herself from the fate that surrounded them, she couldn’t. Or, more accurately, she amended that she wouldn’t. The spell had done more than bind them together; it had taken from her the most important man in her life, and had denied her the right to choose for herself.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Solemn emptiness hung. Where moments before, a deity never seen of this earth had delivered a fate far reaching and undesirable; now only the crushing nothingness remained. The whimsical, multicolored light had snuffed out the moment She left, or had it been before? 

The alien feel of worn and dirty gloves encased her sodden face with murky dampness. Grit slid between satin and skin, a harsh reality swimming through the endless jungle of her thoughts. She blinked, eyes instantly tearing over as the pervasive dirt revealed itself even there. A single footfall broke the perfect silence.

She shied away from his touch.

The leaden moment stretched on in darkness. Somewhere far away, perhaps in another world, the irritated sounds of her guard were rising from the blackness. It sent a frozen fingernail along her spine to hear the broken, confused murmuring through the din. Yet, through the instant terror, all she could focus on was the pervasive shadow to her right.

It was dark as pitch, yet she knew with a quiet certainty exactly where the man stood. She had always known. 

Tuxedo Kamen ran a rough hand through his grimy hair in silent protest. She hadn’t said anything. Only the chilling accusations of their preternatural visitor marked the burdened silence. Worse even was the burning memory of his Goddess in ashen horror at his side. Her already-pale face had bled dry, the quartz-like quality of her eyes had turned to grey matte; her silver aura no more than dust through moonbeam. 

“I…”

She hiccupped. His words stumbled. What more could he say? As Endymion, he had stared down the face of Time in cool dismissal; the perfect visage of a prince and commander. Now it seemed to require all his courage simply to breathe.

“I hate you.” her hoarse whisper broke the quiet, impacted with yelps of panic and questioning from the chorus behind them. Like waves to a glacier, the many words rose up in his throat to crash down again without purpose. He could not utter them. No apology would suffice, and no proclamation would matter. Not even when she screamed it again, and the cavern burst into white flame.

“Why?” the glowing siren clothed herself in light, so much more the Goddess than he remembered of the past. This was no subtle, gentle creature. The hot light burned the skin of his face, tore at the mask till flames ripped it away. “Why!” She screamed again, this time advancing in rage. “Did you not trust me? Did you think…to find this panacea without me?”

“I trust you…” He stumbled on the words, clenching sodden hands in terror. It seemed the cool confidence had simply stored all his conglomerate emotions to issue in this one exchange. Had he the wits, he would have fallen instantly to his knees before the glowing apparition in abject misery and begged for his life. Yet this thought even could not break through his mindless fear.

“Do you?” The intensity rose with the temperature. “You have made me a slave to you. I am a slave!” she shrieked in misery, unaware of the shock of broken floor beneath her feet. He felt the subtle shift within, the heaviness of his sword beside him. Even this change in state could bring no comfort as he fumbled over uneven ground. He fought even for the denial raging in his throat, a battle she clearly saw as she advanced.

“Yes! I have no control over my life, I am chained to this calling just as much as I am to you, and I will never, ever be free.” Her porcelain face seemed to crumple in on itself. The angelic beauty could not be marred by her tears, though, for she was not human. She never would be again. Her bitter sobs hid within the folds of her hands.

“Sere…” the whisper bled from his mouth without thought. His retreating feet brazenly inched forward. Unaware, the Goddess wept on. Her tiny frame bent with the weight of sorrow, yet her hair billowed in the unfelt breeze. No, she could not be human.

“I am not a fighter, Endymion, I never have been. I can’t…” Even through her tears, the words came perfectly from her mouth. Even had they not, he feared his mind would have interpreted them without thought. His hand lifted to touch her shoulder gently. “Leave me.” She whispered quietly. Her downcast face shed droplets like the thundering sky. Her quiet words struck like a whip crack “I expected more of you.”

He recoiled as if bitten, yet could not obey completely. Of all the things she could have said, and in all the lifetimes –this would be the worst. He noted it softly, knowing ever after that scar would remind him of this betrayal, and how his greed had rendered it in flesh.

“I said leave me!” Lines between the worlds blurred and shifted, and the softest edge of Moon burned through the visage of Serenity. He shuddered, pain raged through his head momentarily as the world flickered to darkness. When he could turn back, the woman he loved was struggling from her knees, panting heavily. His own lungs filled in deep gasping breaths. The lights around them had left, and the cavern seemed lit only by will alone. The soft glow could only be blamed on Moon, who seemed to filter the soft light through her being. 

The glow faded from her vision slowly, taking with it the demon prince. It was a strangely haunting sight, as Mamoru’s shadow filled the room with its glowering haze. Where the dark prince had been nothing more than a force to be reckoned with, Mamoru’s stony figure presented an impenetrable wall. A weariness beyond exhaustion began to seep through her veins at the sight of him. The stony gaze of his mask stared back in uncomprehending shock. His form was rigid, awkwardly spaced.

She blinked, fighting back the tears. The weight of the ages pulled at her, even the once bright blue eyes seemed to dull and slide listlessly open again. More than anything, she would have cried for a bed, for a place away from him. Now, instead of feeling the fear of her eventual discovery, all she felt was horror and longing, and weakness.

He had literally destroyed everything in the pursuit. Everything. The selfishness ran so deeply ingrained in his personae that even now, she knew he would continue without remorse, without sleep. This revelation would mean his determination would double or triple or worse, and she just couldn’t muster the strength to deal with it.

“Princess-sama,” Venus murmured, quickly redirecting her attention to the guard. They were different as well, not as bright, not as terrible. She held her hand up wearily, silencing the immanent questions. 

“My Lady, I’m showing a side tunnel leading toward the surface on my scanner…” the mouse-like companion offered. Kamen simply glared at them all, willing them to start a fight. The others kept their gaze from him, and strangely from their leader as well. Moon nodded tiredly and waved them on.

“Go on ahead.” The others trailed out together, no longer the age-old furies that would have screamed for his blood. One look at his beloved Senshi proved his fate would be far worse than combat; worse than death. They began the long climb quietly, mere feet from her though he didn’t dare speak at first. With the dim, almost imperceptible light of Mercury’s computer, he could barely make out the dark, uneven passage as they walked. It did little to quiet his mind.

In the silence that followed, he retraced the path that had led them to this moment; just as he retraced her face, the curve of her hands trapped in gloves. The streaks of her tears had not yet dried, and the muted glimmer of her pain brought with it all the sorrow a soul could feel. The Link, as he would come to call it, was almost tangible now. The soft chord that bound them together, that always brought him unerringly to her side in times of need, was weak. The slump of her shoulders bore testament to his idiocy, his lack of judgment. After all that had been done, it was not enough. He was not enough.

“I don’t know what to say, actually.” She whispered finally, turning her dead, tired eyes on him. A sting began behind his own gaze, one that he squashed violently in the hopes of keeping her from sinking beneath the weight of it all.

“I’m so sor…” he began quietly.

“No, you’re not.” The searing heat quickly burned through the pathetic smoke of his apology, sealing his throat closed with its intensity. Her arms drew up about the dragging shoulders, fighting off a cold that generated from within. “The stupid thing is, I still…”

She couldn’t force the words free; even though she knew they were true. As heartbreaking as their last encounter had been, she knew he was trying. The cold, aloft college playboy had been utterly snuffed out by a quiet, thoughtful man. He had not seen her, even standing so blatantly in his apartment, staring at him through the years of loneliness that seemed always to separate them. And yet…

“I do, too.” He muttered finally, somehow knowing even without words what she wished to express. The girl shuddered, closing her eyes to breathe calmly again. She could just…injure him. So much of the blame lay at her doorstep that even that felt unfair. 

“Why couldn’t you just be the man I fell in love with then? It was so easy…” Her quiet voice carried in the first summer breeze, so warm and sad it pricked at his eyes. He gulped, stepping forward to help her somehow deal with the weight of it all.

“I’m trying, Moon. Gods, I’m so sorry…” 

“Just shut up! Stop saying that!” the white gloves fled around her ears, cheeks flaring red. 

“Why? It’s true!” he lashed out in kind. He wanted to help her, the selfish girl! Why couldn’t she see that? Her eyes hardened to shards of infinite sapphire in the darkness. He balked, wondering where the explosion had come from. “No, no I shouldn’t have… Forgive me.” The words died like pebbles launched against castle walls. The pieces of his useless apology suddenly felt ridiculous in the face of their situation. He also couldn’t understand why all of this felt so familiar. “I don’t know why, but we tend to fight a lot when things get…complicated.”

“What?” the harsh whisper broke through his resulting train of thoughts. Slowly, he lifted the mask from his face and tipped the hat away. He could see it now, the light that had shimmered beneath her skin so long ago. Her frustrated, angry tears had sparkled like diamonds for as long as he could remember. To know that she was a Goddess of light brought all things around into one great whole. How does one describe the otherworldly feeling of two lifetimes skittering about inside your skull? How does one reckon between the two facets of one person without losing a part of each in translation?

Confused, he glanced around the mouth of the cave in the bitter, dark night. No wonder they hadn’t seen the end of the tunnel coming, there was no moon. Shadows dominated the night sky in sylvan fingers. Claw-like and strange, the alien trees gave way as the others disappeared from view to lend as much privacy as possible.

“I don’t know, it’s…different.” The sense of déjà vu was breathtaking. It was almost as if they had fought this way all along and he’d never known it. The truly odd part was the realization that he had never really fought with someone he loved before, and the lines were smudged and dingy. “I’ve never…stuck around enough…”  
“Yeah, I bet that’s not exactly your strong suit.” She spewed angrily. The comment stung. 

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“What else am I supposed to say to that?” the furious words spilled nonsensically from her trembling lips, yet his only answer was the taste of iron coating his mouth. His hands clenched in uselessness at his side. The woman before him scoffed, shaking her head and turning away in disgust. “Gods, you’re so ridiculous.”

“Well, tell me how you really feel.” He murmured back, forcing his anger to cool with every passing moment. The boots clacked once only, and a moment passed before her tired eyes locked against his with all the frozen intent he had ever used in his life. 

“Let me just ask you a question, Mamoru-kun. Easy answer. Do you know me?”

It was a bare second before he could answer, yet the space felt occupied by more than events, and more than memories. He did not hesitate, but the tremor of both fear and longing spoke more than words could of how ridiculous the question felt, how impossible the answer would be.

“Yes.” The hat fell to the ground silently, and the mask fluttered to a stop beside it. “And no. I don’t know your name. I just know you.” The eons stretched between them in the shadow of his gaze, it may have well been an eternity rather than one simple life. What they had come to possess between them was more than love or longing. There was no language to express the truest sense of what they had, and yet the description was a lacking thought when compared to it. How could she not see even for a moment all he had in taking that chance for them? As wrong as it may have been, she must on some level understand how desperate they had been made. 

“Unbelievable. Even going through all that and you still don’t recognize me. Just forget it.” The blond waved her hand erratically in his face before skidding away in irritation. But the inability to see all that he had seen was more than the man could take, and more than anything he wanted…he wanted her to…. As gently as his furious brain could manage, he gripped the retreating arm and tugged her back.

 

“Now, hold on just one damn minute here. I don’t know your name –which by the way, hasn’t changed since we met –and now you’re pissed about it? Finding out you’re actually my wife wasn’t mind boggling enough?” he paused long enough to breathe here, still reeling from it. “Not to mention that crazy persistent princess, and a Goddess, and who knows what the hell else you are…”

“I would really appreciate it if you never referred to me as your wife again.” She spat, her arm twisting viciously from his grip. 

“Like hell!” He offered right back and released her. It stung to hear that talk when Serenity was whispering in the back of his mind, when those same eyes stared at him from a lifetime away filled with longing. It was more than he could bear. The red boots clattered on broken cement, and she smelled like vanilla and spice even from so far away. “You’re just scared because we’ve got serious history. That’s not something you just walk away from.”

“Yeah? Watch me.” The white gloves slid free as she seemed to be checking her arms for bruising that would never show. Cold fury burned over at the sight, and suddenly burst from his chest like a popped boil, spilling it’s vile infection between them.

“I am watching you! I have been! For years. You know it’s been two years? I haven’t even looked at anyone else in all that time. I guess that doesn’t mean a damn thing to a Goddess, does it? Devotion. Love. Means nothing at all.” He felt unbearably hot beneath the collar. The need to break something with his hands was overpowering, 

“Mamoru…” she tried, but he was beyond listening. He had done nothing but listen for months, and had put every ounce of will he possessed into acting on what he had heard. But that was the thing about listening; one had to be heard as well. He didn’t have much to say; honestly he felt his actions spoke louder than anything else could. She still didn’t seem to get it.

“Yes. Love. Devotion. Respect. I am not what you need me to be yet, Moon, but I will be.” It was all he wanted her to know. It was all he felt he could offer in the face of her pain. How could he have done different? How could he have faced the darkness without her? How could he overcome the abyss without her guiding light?

“You are…so full yourself.” She whispered finally, disgust plainly marring her pretty face. Her pretty, human face. Her pretty human face. Not quite, he reminded himself. Even now, the glowing gold of her hair seemed to float.

“Oh? Still attracted you, didn’t I?” his soft answer held no accusation. As much as he wanted to scream and shake her and hold her till she stopped fighting him, a sudden clarity was beginning to dawn in the back of his mind. Though he couldn’t put words to it yet, there was a sense of something much deeper than their silly argument simmering beneath her words. 

“You know what I find so repulsive about you, Chiba Mamoru? Your arrogance, and your selfish lack of care for everyone around you. In fact, I find myself wondering all the time why I ever fell in love with you! I can’t believe how naïve I’ve been thinking this whole thing was going to work out –hoping for it even. I should know what you really want is to get inside my fuku, then brag to the whole world how great you are for it! I am the biggest ditz in the whole world if I ever thought that Chiba Mamoru felt anything for me other than horny…”

“You’re wrong,” His dark voice cut through her tirade deftly, tone leaving little room for argument. Anger fizzled through his veins, brought on by her accusations, the fact that they held some small particle of truth in the beginning. “…though I do admit to the horny part. I’d have to be gay not to notice those curves. But that’s not the point.” He finished roughly, sharp steps echoing into the night as he came closer. “In the beginning, yes. I admit I wanted raw, hard sex about a million times over with you. Hell, I still do. But you know things have changed between us.” His fingers hooked around her small chin, free hand catching at her waist. “You should know that I’ve really fallen for you. I love you. It’s not about some stupid bond. Maybe it was just to spite it, even. Who needs some ridiculous archaic spell to realize how goddamn priceless you are? I want you in my life, wrapped in my arm, walking by my side, eating at my table, and hell yes, laying in my bed. I don’t want to share you with anyone, and I can’t even think about any other man touching you without going homicidal.”

Memories flooded the senses with her so close. Beneath the smell of asphalt, rock, and charred fabric, there was a faint whiff of something flowery and girly and utterly tempting. It was the smell of happiness and laughter, secret meetings, soft words, a gentle touch. It all culminated to home. Belonging. Rather than give in to the immediate need to ravish the poor girl, he held his ground, willing her to understand what he was desperately trying to say.

“We belong to each other, Moon. You know it. I know it. Who cares what the fates or gods or anyone else has to say about it. I love you.” Still, he didn’t move. Tradition dictated a certain kind of kiss now, he knew. Tradition never meant much to him anyway. What did matter was that she knew she was worth more to him than any other thing; even if it meant sacrifice.

“This selfishness has got to stop, Mamoru. The more you force me or fate or anything, the further apart we are. I can’t be with someone who’s only thought is what makes them happy.” He all but dropped her in frustration, throwing both hands in the air and rubbing them across his face. Of all the silly, childish things she could say –and in that exact moment!

“You… just… Moon! Seriously? I want to make you happy!” He all but growled, barely channeling his growing anger in the face of her indifference. “That’s why I did it to begin with! Don’t pretend like I wasn’t thinking of you, you know I was!”

The girl scoffed, turning toward the trees as resolutely as if he didn’t exist.

“I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”  
.  
.  
……………………………..  
The wild, animalistic hunger stalked darkly in the back of his mind. The predator could be contained and controlled only so long as the promise of the kill was eminent. Mamoru could see it even in his eyes anymore. The fierce, independent pride, the intensity; he had always thought it gave him his edge, his alpha-male persona. Since his earliest breath, he’d known it was there, had not been afraid of the power he held even in his younger years. Even before he knew of his identity as Tuxedo Kamen, he had known somehow that there had been much more than what he appeared.

But now, the beast prowled the edge of his vision –The Wolf. How much of his life had been lost to this identity? He had used it for many things, both good and bad over the years. Now that he had met his princess, his Goddess, it was all changing. Had she been even an inch the pathetic, feinting, sighing, lazy princess that he had always taken her for, the beast would have devoured her on the spot and not been bothered with it again. What he had not known, and could never have guessed was that it had been his warrior to take up the mantle. She had been beautiful and powerful, and in a way quite a bit terrifying.

It had only made the attraction worse. How could he not have guessed it just by looking at her? Now that it was known, he could barely tell the difference between the two. His dreams had been filled to the brim with this princess. It was almost a subconscious obsession. Hadn’t Moon affected him the same way? Hadn’t he wanted her just as badly as this shadow figure –now the elusive Endymion ghosting through the back of his mind like a specter from another world?

Now he understood; the power and drive had always been a part of him because Earth’s Prince had been hiding within him all this time. The fact that it had flowed across his skin and through every cell last night could not be forgotten. As Tuxedo Kamen, he had felt stronger and faster in every way, but as Endymion, he was invincible. 

His fingers flexed beside his hip, unconsciously reaching for the heavy claymore he’d kept on him in the old world. He missed the weight now, it would have been reassuring. Above all, the new information brought with it snippets of memory, not only with his divine lover, but also of a family. The feelings they brought were alien and strange. As much as he had worked toward gaining them in this life, the reality of their burning, warming sensations were almost too much.

His mother had been beautiful and kind. He remembered so little of her, but for the shimmering black hair that had reached to the floor in waves. Her mysterious amber eyes had looked at him with such sorrow and love. He didn’t know how to react to them. He didn’t know what he would say to her. His father had been tall and silver haired with eyes as dark a blue as Mamoru’s were now. He remembered standing in awe of his father as a young boy. He’d been a war lord in his earlier years. Because of him, Terra had remained a kingdom till his final breath. The history was…fuzzy now. He knew there had been a time when it was not all considered part of the realm, but he could not remember exactly when or why.

His parents. He had once been someone’s son. Not just anyone, either, he had once been a prince. As a kid, he’d never known but had always wondered what it would be like to belong. To know what little he did of them, and to remember all that he had done in his past life brought no small amount of shame. He had been told, though the warning had come far too late: their forbidden love was to lead to apocalypse. 

Even as those words had parted from the council, he gave them no heed. The all-consuming Goddess filled every inch of his vision with her pale light. Such a woman could not be the harbinger of his death, nor could the simple act of seeing her. She was beautiful and powerful, and he feared no mortality within her arms. Even now, as the unofficial boyfriend/go-to man, there was little in this life he feared.

The time Guardian’s words could not be forgotten, nor ignored as he would have liked. The responsibility she had lain on his shoulders last night had brought to the forefront his only real terror; and that was the prospect of losing his Serenity. Her pale face and harsh words also could not be scrubbed from his memory. She was rightly disappointed in him, there was no denying that his actions had led to a much more complicated existence.

Strangely, he was certain that she would grow to forgive him. It had been clear, however, that she wanted time to herself to sort through her thoughts. He would do the same.

Besides, there were other factors to consider as well. One, in fact, that made him anxious.

“Endymion. You must know that your role has been severely limited. The Fates did not take your betrayal kindly. You have been stripped of nearly all your powers, save those innately passed through blood. They have decreed from this moment on that you must be fatherless for all eternity. Though they cannot control your destiny anymore, they have vowed to block your path; especially in regards to Her Highness.” 

Those garnet eyes had watched him, loathing all but dripping from her form. The punishment seemed more than he could bare in the moment, with the sudden freshness of his parents surrounding him. It had been no worse in the daylight early this morning. He would be an orphan forever –a strangely just ruling, given the consequences.

Because of him, an entire universe had fallen. The shear enormity of his actions could not be comprehended. It was impossible. How many families in this world had he been the guardian of, and how many of them had died in an unnecessary war? How many mass murderers had he studied in school? How like them had he been in that moment? As much as he tried to justify himself in saying he had meant them no harm, it did not ring true. If anything, he had felt angry, resentful of them for trying to keep him from his Goddess. Moon had been right. His actions sprouted entirely from selfish motives. He would have to bear it forever, fighting in every lifetime to uphold this new reality. Even should he be sent down the dark river, the souls of those lost would be there to meet him in the depths to drag both him and Serenity to the shadow.

There would be no Elysium for them, only this life; only the lives given them by a dead Titan God who no longer existed. The daughter of Time’s sole purpose to drive home the bitter contract to the end of days, and he would be as infinitely alone as those he had condemned. Even she blamed him for the death and downfall of her predecessors.

Had all of this really come of one chance meeting? How could the end of times be so fickle? It seemed this rash reaction to the unlikely pair must be more than met the eye. Relations between Gods and men were rare to say the least, but certainly not unheard of. There had to be another explanation, something that would exonerate him from the clutches of his sentence. There had to be a way to make things right. 

The hot brand of guilt shrieked like hellfire in the silence. Maybe what the Gods had feared wasn’t so much the pairing as the timing. It would all come together to create the perfect storm. Forbidden love between Gods and man, a twisted obsession from an old conquest, the rising tide of the underworld’s greatest powers, and the vengeance of the Fates themselves for disobedience. 

No wonder theirs would be the signal to end all days.   
.  
.  
……………………………

Usagi gasped, pressing hands to her head in agony. The racking, burning visions seared the lining of her skull with fire and screams of agony, screams of passion. The sounds of battle melted deeply into…other sounds. She fought the urge to vomit at the sudden emotions erupting in a confused onslaught of love, horror and grief. The soft pink background of her room fused with stark silver and white, the burning sunlight of the open window was a smoldering flame tearing….consuming…

“Usagi-chan…” the gentle touch of curious paws pressed deeply into her shoulder from above. The velveteen tail swished across her ribcage, bringing the world slowly back into focus. Her limbs ached with the cold, and the abrupt, staccato pattern of her heart was the sudden, measured explosions that would cause her chest to cave any moment. The gentle intrusion of whiskers and fur against her face gave the world an unexpected reality as a slick feline body pressed against her neck.

“Luna, I’m sorry. My head…”

“Sh, just rest.” The soft velvet fur soaked hot tears from her face. For a moment, it was Endymion’s kisses, his hands, his tongue doing the same. She blanched. The feverish images of their last night, coupled with sensation and emotion…

“I need to run.” The words forced themselves free as she burst from the bed in one swift movement. The shadow-black tumbling mess of limbs and fur splayed as far as possible to stop the fall as the words processed.

“Oi! Eat breakfast…” The concussive crack of the front door broke her words in half as the world of her childhood closed. The heavy, tense heat radiating off her face sizzled against the May morning. Bright sunlight bounced joyously back from a world now lost to the urgency of spring. It flared against her eyes and skull like the tactical shot of an arrow through a glowing child’s chest. She coughed heavily, tears pouring down her face at the loss she’d witnessed, at the horror of war.

Her feet pounded in a steady rhythm across the silvery…no, it was gray, pavement. The faces around her blurred against tears, against the sudden images of the fight that could never be won. The childish laughter of small ones at play mingled in her brain with their screams. Even surrounded by life and joy and happiness, the memories of that appalling last day haunted every sight. 

The burning of her lungs finally forced her aching legs to falter. The harsh bite of a tree against her arm struck through the world of rushing air, and she clung to it instinctively, knowing her legs would not be enough to support her anymore. They refused to respond as she slid down to the ground, leaving her tears plastered along the length of the trunk. The scratchy surface felt nothing like the past, and the blazing sun burned through her eyelids with golden warmth that dulled the edge of pain. It was enough as the haze of sleep gently sucked her under at last.  
.  
.  
…………………………………….

“Usa-chan…” 

The darkness retracted inch by inch as the new pressure against her shoulder pushed. She groaned, exhausted and afraid to wake. It was quiet here, it was…

“Usa…Are you OK?” Sunlight refracted red as she blinked, igniting a sudden scream somewhere so deep, she could no longer find the source of it. The shimmering red hair faded from vibrant, deep crimson to dark auburn, and suddenly the Demon Queen was the concerned face of Naru.

“What’s wrong, Usagi-chan!” The flash of large glasses reflected bright sunlight a moment as Umino swam into view. She gulped, blinking hazily at her friends before pressing her hands hard to her eyes. 

“Sorry, guys. Nightmare.” A few deep breaths puffed her chest. It would take a lot more concentration to keep the images at bay while her friends were here. The sun was warm on her skin, and birds tweeted sparsely in the trees. The feel of soft grass cushioned her from the hard ground, and the roughly ridged bark of the tree bit into the soft flesh of her back. This was real, this was her life in this world; she tried to enforce the thoughts deeply into her mind. The harsh revelations of last night slunk silently away as the soft summer air filled her lungs, and the breeze flitted by.

“Ne, Usagi-chan…I know it’s Saturday, but…” Naru began softly, her voice hesitant. The blond allowed her hands to fall into her lap curiously. The blond glanced to each of her friends in confusion.

“Nice pj’s.” Umino’s glasses wagged suggestively.

“What?!” She screamed, leaping up and staring at herself. Oh gods, her bunnies were laughing at her from every inch of bright pink fabric. She hadn’t even thought of it on her way out the door. The sweat sodden tangle of un-brushed golden hair hung in matted clumps, and even her feet were black and bruised from running bare.

“Why me?” She wailed, falling back to her knees in adolescent horror. Of all the things one could do at her age to be completely ridiculous, this had to be at the top of the list. Naru was the first to offer comfort, throwing an arm around her shoulder to help her up.

“Here, I’ve got my uniform. Let’s get you changed, girl!”   
.  
.  
………………………..

Mamoru stalked the bustling city like a giant among mortals, his thoughts a raging thunderstorm. He had not been home in several hours, if not days. It felt like days. His mind kept churning every time he felt he had things settled down. It was enough to turn breakfast to ash, coffee to water, and chocolate to tasteless paste. 

The bland, sterile environement of his apartment had mocked his growing despair. In a futile attempt to stave off the growing hysteria, he’d taken to the streets some time ago, hoping the crush of bodies would blot the deafening memories from his mind. It wasn’t so much the faint screams of pain and horror that bothered him, so much as the one fleeting moment of utter failure before the memories stopped short.

The moment he was no longer there to protect her…

“Ohmygosh YES to ice cream! I’m starving!”

A piercing wail broke through the dizzying tailspin of thoughts. The somber , guilt ridden eyes glanced sideways just long enough to see his arch nemesis grip the arm of a poor redhead and drag her toward an alley-way up ahead. An overly observant geek followed; his whiny voice even higher and more obnoxious than Odango’s. Mamoru quickly forced the growing smile from his face, confused as to how it ever got there to begin with. 

He padded along at the same even pace, throwing a casual glance down the alley as he went. It was funny how Odango seemed much more…lanky than he remembered her being. Her gold hair flashed momentarily as he walked by, thrown back to smack against the solid grey bricks of the building. She must have grown a few inches since the park.

He paused mid-stride. 

Something about the last few thoughts felt out of place. Timing? No, it couldn’t have been that long ago. Probably not even a month had passed. The cautious back-tracking steps panned the alley open again. It was a scene he would have heard about later on the evening news.

“…at those eyes!” someone sneered. The grubby, dirt stained creature rammed an elbow hard against the pale flesh of Usagi’s throat. The flash of metal in the strangers hand lent a deadly seriousness to the mugging. The others laughed in agreement. The slow, raging fury boiled cold like December snow just beneath the surface of Mamoru’s skin. 

“Damn, but she’s a pretty one!”

“You leave her alone!” The nerd warned somewhere close to the ground. His mind suddenly crystal clear, the onlooker sent a quick glance around before formulating a plan. The survey showed Odango pinned to a wall, the red head beside her. Glasses’ face lay pressed into the dirty ground with a boot on his neck. The obvious lack of understanding for the situation did little to qualm the boy’s optimism as he yelled again. “Usagi-chan! I’ll rescue you, don’t worry!”

“Umino!” the sniveling redhead yelled, half in embarrassment, half in hope. Usagi remained oddly quiet.

“Shut up, punk! Hey, nice ID card!” the one standing over the boy was flipping through the contents of his wallet. It was a good sign. Common thugs wouldn’t require a change. Mamoru took a step forward threateningly.

The grubby man let loose a solid, mournful groan before sliding to the earth in a puddle. Golden hair swung heavily to the side as a flash of pale leg shot out sideways, hooking the plundering thief directly in the neck and sending him crashing downward. Mamoru whistled under his breath as Odango turned and gripped the last’s head and ripped backwards to thump him across her knee. Her friend gasped in shock, nearly knocked off balance at the sudden loss of pressure at her neck. 

“Usagi-chan, no!” a solid thud rang out as pipe met flesh. It was enough to shock Mamoru out of his stupor. He stepped a second time into the ally, ready to wreak hell on the pathetic thieves. Instead, Usagi went down, quickly sweeping the feet out from the man before delivering a solid punch directly into his face.

A sudden chill swept across his skin at the sight. The growing sense of sickly fascination forced him to duck behind a dumpster before the blond sprung upward to catch another in a swift uppercut that sent him spinning into the ally. The third scrambled to his feet, rushing at her from behind. It took every ounce of will Mamoru had not to jump up and run to her, but his instincts proved dead on as she turned, tiger-striking the man deep into the throat and dropping him with one blow. 

And with that, Odango had violated a basic rule of womankind. Place any female in any dangerous situation, and they’ll scream bloody murder till they either die, pass out, or someone useful finally comes along and rescues them. 

And she’d done it in a skirt. Make that two basic rules.

Another boy came up from the front, seemingly too fast for her to stop, but was once again floored by a screaming roundhouse that left him flying through the air. The flash of long, perfectly muscled legs in the dim light of the alley, and the sudden surprising eyeful of a toned, lightly defined midsection had even Mamoru’s mind in the gutter.

Where had she learned those kind of moves? What was the world coming to when even middle school kids had to know how to defend themselves! All this time, he’d been focusing on Moon, when really he should have at least taken into consideration what it was doing to the kids in this city! A brief twang of guilt and sorrow plucked at his chest at the thought. 

The city was in bad shape. Even the thought of how much damage the attacks had caused boggled his mind over the last few years. Had he never noticed the rubble afterward? Doubt flickered through him. He’d been so focused on other things; he would have to take a look around, reassess the state of things. He would have to take into thought how much it had all changed since he’d last bothered to notice. Even little Odango! Here, he’d been assuming she couldn’t hurt a fly! With the attacks in the city as bad as they were, it made sense that Rei-chan would train her.

His mind hastily recovering from the jolt, he watched as she swept the feet out from under another boy and straightened into a reverse fighter stance. Her breathing was even and controlled as the young man stumbled to his feet beside her. The last two gang members viewed the considerable damage around them and promptly fled as if the very minions of hell were chasing them.

“Oh my gods!” her cinnamon-haired friend was balking, much along the lines of his own thoughts. Glasses was down on one knee with her hand trapped between his in what could only be assumed as a romantic gesture. The awkward mix of sadness and consternation on her face proved the show was entirely lost on her.

“Fair Usagi-chan! You have heroically saved us all!” The steady whine of his voice had her gripping at her forehead even though she was smiling. The show disintegrated as the girl’s knees wobbled, sending her crashing backward against the solid brick. 

Instant panic gripped all of them to see her go down. The drunken tottering of her legs had shown none of the grace or poise her stances had shown. Even from here, he could tell her face had lost all color, and that she was struggling to breathe normally. The others were yelling, but it couldn’t be heard above the confusion of his thoughts. She had just floored three thugs at least twice her size, and yet now was the perfect time to collapse?

Motoki had said she struggled with blood sugar. Where had they been going again? There was something about… Oh gods, she was going into shock! He quickly patted at his pockets, but knew there would be nothing there to help her. He didn’t like sweets. A quick glance up the ally showed the young boy’s retreating form, and that Usagi was being held by her friend as they waited. 

He’d just sat there the whole time! In the moment, it had made sense just to watch everything unfold, but reality was closing in fast. Usagi and company had just been mugged and he hadn’t done a damn thing about it! And Odango, of all the people in the world, had taken care of the situation to the point that she was now going into shock. And he was still sitting there! The least he could do was offer to help!

He stood in time to see the Youma slither around the corner. His cry of warning blurred beneath the terrified shrieks of her friend. Within seconds, the thick, gel-covered tentacles had looped around limb and throat, lifting the duo easily from their knees. 

“What is it with redheads and monsters?” He all but growled, reaching for his cane as it formed in the shadow of a half shaped cloak. The other hand warmed with the summoning of the roses. He’d be damned if that beast took Usagi away before he had a chance to get her some help.

The rain fell in scarlet and emerald, and ended with a burst of light and pain. Charred, screaming in agony, the monstrosity fled back toward the other side. Its’ retreat left chunks of smoldering flesh and two unconscious girls. He took aim again, deftly pinning his enemy between mortar and stone. With the creature distracted, he all but fled toward the girls, gathering each carefully within his arms before leaping upward.

It was ill timed, something below him burst with a concussive pop. The blowout was strong enough to shove against his sailing form. He stumbled with the added burden, feet forcefully pounding down against a rooftop that threatened to catch all of them in a painful heap. There was barely enough time to right himself before he leapt again, this time easily clearing the next roof. 

Without thought, the girls were quickly deposited. The empty lawn chairs would have to do, as he was sure the thing would be right on his tail. He’d have to turn and fight with these two still unconscious behind him. The cane slid open, blade glittering in the sun as he turned on the still empty rooftop. Confused, yet unconvinced, the hero slid quickly over the edge of the building and back into the fray.

The alley burst into golden light the moment his shoes touched ground. The ring of Venus’ powerful voice reverberated from the bricks around them, echoed by the animal screeching of her enemy before it burst from within. Green goo erupted with gelatinous splat. 

He shook his head, flicking a glob of yellow from his shoulder. He should have known. After all, there were only so many reasons why it hadn’t followed the victims. One could have assumed it had been a targeted attack, considering the conditions. A strange wave of emotion settled across his shoulders and chest, something he was still struggling to name as the cloak slid free.

Venus spun defensively, fingers still crackling with power as the dark velvet of his cloak settled on her shoulders. Her face was serious, despite the comical addition of alien innards and a loosened hair bow. The anger bled from her face, replaced with caution.

“Thanks. Don’t think it changes anything, though. We’re still enemies.”

Gratitude. Ah, yes, that was the emotion he’d felt. He couldn’t help the ironic chuckle that slid from his throat at the thought.

“Oh, you are a pleasant one! Good to meet you too, Venus. Why don’t you get cleaned up? I have somewhere to be.” He ducked her chin brotherly. He wasn’t sure where this sudden comradery came from, only that the light feeling in his chest felt good.

“You better leave her alone!” The golden woman yelled defiantly, only to be met with his lazy grin.

“I make no promises. Especially ones I can’t keep.”  
.  
.  
…………………………………….

Mamoru shook his arms in contemplation. On the other side of this door was a poor kid desperately in need of help. He was more than willing to give it, of course, but for some reason he felt anxious. Maybe it was guilt for not stepping in. Maybe it was guilt for a lot of things. Part of him wished he’d never seen such a thing, the other realized it was a heavy call to action. The city was a mess, and he was only thinking about himself.

“Usagi-chan! Come on, wake up!” the desperate call of her red-head friend shattered the sudden silence as the door swung open. Sunlight dappled the open rooftop, broken by a wind-whipped canvas and bits of drying laundry. He moved quietly, following the corner of the door hatch till the familiar scene of weekend parties bloomed once more. Every first year college binger he’d ever attended stretched across the space between them. Red cups and beer cans littered the battleground in earnest with their casual rolling. The sudden image of loping zombies flashed across the forefront of his mind as a slightly misshapen glass lolled unevenly by. It was funny how the heat of battle made him look over the familiar sight with a warrior’s perspective. 

There, leaning over her slightly broken seat, the redhead was simpering, shaking the shoulders of her friend in concern. Her back was turned to him, red hair ignited in the afternoon sun in the most unpleasant manner. The flash of deep auburn injected the taste of bile deep into his throat. He shuddered, shaking the sudden vision of his enemy violently from the portentous, somewhat homicidal thoughts they bred. There would be time for Beryl…later…

“Please, Usagi-chan! I can’t…wait, I’ll get some help.” The girl moved too suddenly, her slight form crashing heavily against his as he made his way forward. Almost without thought, a solid hand gripped her upper arm to keep her standing as he eyed the fallen blond in curiosity. 

All the anxiety, all the sudden fear melted at the sight of the girl. Her pale face had to be burning beneath the heat of the midday sun, and the damage it was doing to an already overloaded system would not be a good combination. 

“Go get some candy. I’ll bring her down.” The blushing girl at his side nodded wordlessly, and disappeared with the slight clang as the door slid home again. 

He took a moment to survey the skyline. It no longer bore the familiar landmarks; few and far between the district of Juuban had taken the greatest hit. The shopping mall was easily the first to be noticed, and brought back memories of nearly a year and a half ago. It defied logic, though; why hadn’t they rebuilt the structure in all this time? How could a company hope to make money when the roof was caving in on one side?

It was the fear. The air stank with the oppressive blanket, cushioning sound to a low muffled roar far away. He could have sworn things had been so much brighter even last month. He remembered children laughing and playing in the puddles in the rain. He could have sworn the world held so much more hope and love…had he imagined it all from the beginning? Had his relationship with Moon given him the proverbial rose tinted glasses?

Mamoru turned back to his arch nemesis in quiet contemplation. The whipping wind flapped at her shirt enticingly. With each movement, the shadow of her stacked abs defied every ounce of logic he possessed. The shape of her body was very… different than he’d ever seen it. He remembered eyeing the awkward puffing sleeves of her jacket a few months ago. He remembered thinking her dimensions were more….stocky. This girl was long and lean and extremely shapely. It was odd to think she was just fourteen. 

He bent, carefully wrapping his arms beneath her knees and across the shoulders. The skirt was tucked deftly beneath his arm and he lifted. The surprising weight almost caught him off guard. She was, he searched for an appropriate word, dense. Not a lot of flesh, a strangely non-proportional amount of weight. He definitely didn’t remember that from last year. 

The Usagi he’d carried last year had been swimming in her school uniform, and it had repelled from her as much as it did him. This was something very different. It felt softer, the way fabric was supposed to feel beneath his hands. It gave way to her weight, broke against cool flesh, and shifted with every breath. He redistributed her against his chest a little better before attempting the shaky stairs again, this time much more concerned for her flopping legs and head. 

He’d have to bring her those clothes. It had been wrong of him to hold on to them. Her head rested at the crook of his neck, with the abundance of matted blond hair trailing across his shoulder and down nearly to the ground. Even dirty, the fairytale gold reminded him of their conversation at his apartment. She really was a sleeping beauty.

 

“Here, I’ve got some soda…” Her friend huffed tiredly as the front door was gently pushed open. The other boy, the one he’d seen prostrate in the ally, stood beside her, his face slowly growing more flushed. The older man deftly avoided eye contact in the hopes of circling any fight to the death that might be issued. Someone might have thought they were dating the way Glasses was glaring at him.

“Great, let’s see if we can get her to take some of it.” Mamoru carefully cradled the bundle back, long enough for her head to flop lifelessly down. The redhead –he would have to ask her name at least –then carefully administered a straw-ful of golden sweetness. It ran down her face more than anything, but at least the sugary concoction could begin it’s work to revive the limp damsel. “Thanks. What was your name again?”

“N-Naru…” she gulped, green eyes suddenly wide as they clashed with his. Shit, he could have timed that one a little better anyway. There was nothing quite like an awkwardly close moment to stir the unwanted attentions of yet another high school girl. The boy sputtered, close to screaming, and stormed off in the other direction with his hands flailing in all directions.

“Ignore him. Do you want me to call a taxi?”

“No, it’s alright. Where should I take her?” Mamoru shrugged the girl back upward so her head rested on his shoulder.   
.  
.  
…………………………………………

Naru pushed the doorway open before him, quickly moving out of the way as he lumbered through. Usagi was still out cold, despite Umino’s attempt to revive her with soda and candy. Mamoru knew it was blatant classism that instantly made the little nerd unlikeable, and secretly hated the fact. It was obvious the boy had feelings for Usagi, but the way he went about it just made the situation awkward. He was flitting about like a nervous hen about to wet itself in panic.

There was no use in staring at the poor, scrawny thing. Even if Usagi were the kind of girl to date the nerd, Mamoru struggled with the idea of those two together. She’d freak every time he did something sweet, and he’d wet himself like a poorly trained Chihuahua. Naru was calmly trying to explain for the fourth time that Usagi would be just fine with some rest, but the boy wasn’t having any of it.

Her pale skin seemed drawn for a moment, and dark circles bruised her eyes. He could hardly believe that this fragile, broken woman had taken out three muggers not even an hour ago. The tall man walked quickly over to the couch and gingerly settled her into the cushions. Her tiny body folded limply, arm flailing over the edge before he could lay it across her flat, toned stomach.

“Hey, you can leave now! Thanks for doing the hard work! HEY!” Melvin hollered as the Naru gripped his ear and yanked toward the kitchen. Mamoru felt a fond smile cross his face before he could stop it, and turned back to assess the girl. Maybe he should call Motoki and let him know what was happening. 

Dark circles, sleepless nights. Had she gotten caught in a fight somewhere along the way and been hurt? Whatever else may be on her mind, this girl trained hard. There was nothing but muscle holding her short frame together. Had she been like this last summer? Had she always looked so…exhausted?

He smoothed a tangle of golden hair from her chin, and couldn’t help but smile. Gods, she was drooling. He chuckled a little at the familiar thought. At least that hadn’t changed. It was a short skim down the long neck and toward the shifting open V of her blouse. With some attempt at decency, he cleared his dry throat and stood.

“Hey! I saw that!” that nasaly, whiny voice hollered from the kitchen before it could be quieted. Dark blue eyes rolled heavenward. 

“Alright, alright! I’m going.” A quick glance backward showed Naru forcefully holding the nerd down as he flailed against her helplessly. Laughter rumbled up from the depth of his chest, despite all efforts against it. The boy was utterly useless, and obviously very infatuated. 

“I’ll defend your honor!” Umino screeched desperately as Mamoru got to his feet again. 

“Shut UP Umino!”

“He was staring at her…you know…”

He would be back. There was class to go to, things to be done. After it all, though, he would bring her things over. It was the least he could do. More importantly, he had to get away from Glasses before a more intense situation presented itself.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Midnight permeated every pore of the darkened suburb in crushing obscurity. Even the moon above refused to facilitate the oncoming crime. The murky blackness slunk across doorways and lawns, clawed through the spindly branches. Even the once silvery moon hid her face in shadow tonight. Streetlamps hummed, churning their cancerous yellow light in pools across the pitch colored ground, their measly efforts entirely swallowed by the silent night.

The foreboding outline of shoulders melted from the obscure black fog, the tilt of a face burned a hole in the inky blackness. With sharp, staccato movements, the figure swept from the shadow of a home, slithering from lawn to tree to window in fast, determined movements. 

The plush, warm interior greeted him with silent welcome. Dark eyes furtively sought the gently sleeping figure tucked beneath the covers, and noted the kitten purr of the black cat at her side. The shade slid close, it’s form melding with the whispering shadows of the moon above casting light on the sleeping girl. It washed the color from her face, and shimmered silver in the wisps of hair leaking out from beneath the sheets.

It was a face he knew very well, one that had never seemed so serene and ethereal. Where the wildly expressive daylight brightened and intensified the features to the point of breaking, the soft withering moonlight lent a certain delicacy. It was without adornment, without the artificial pigmentation that would have spoiled the beautiful picture of innocence she made.

Mamoru could feel the beginning of a smile long before he could force it behind the mask. His mind wandered toward their conversation in his apartment just a month back. She’d been so sad. It was the first time he’d bothered to take in the developing features of his favorite arch nemesis, and even he had been forced to admit she was more…

More thoughtful, more intense, and yet more uncertain; the girl had struck some forbidden key he had yet to understand. What if it had gone deeper? What if something terrible had happened to her family? He grimaced, setting the lost jacket down amongst dirty laundry and turning toward the room. It had sparked quite the conversation with his classmates tonight.

“Oh, very clever seamstress, yes. This is probably a prop from a stage play. Look at these seams here, very well done, yes. Meant to make you look younger.”

Curiously, definitely overstepping his bounds, he turned to the small closet tucked into the corner. His fingers caught hold of soft fabric, night sharpened vision focused just long enough to pull the offending material into the moonlight. The seam was stitched just as she had described. It warped the natural shape of the body, changed the dimensions just enough to trick the mind.

“Oh, and the lining! Look at this, I want to meet her, Chiba-kun, yes, just lovely! This is for contouring. The actress must be short for it to work, but you could pass her for just a child!”

The stiff tell-tale innards of the piece were enough to confirm his suspicions. According to the school registry, Usagi was almost 17, he could barely believe it, and should be well on her way to an adult body. Yet here, lying in his hands, was proof that she was trying hard to appear much, much younger. His classmate had said you could shave up to a decade off with clever costume design and smart character. The fact that Usagi often portrayed the same mentality as a child was the perfect ploy; so perfect it was genius.

What could she possibly be hiding from?

The shadow slipped quietly from the room and down the hall. There were only so many doors, and a quiet look through each eventually led to an office split between two worlds. One side was dominated by an old, well worn desk. Across it’s face spread the snapshots of a million lives, crowned by an old style camera and flash. The other side was just as simple, a shelf with stacks of fabric and projects neatly organized around a small, adequate sewing machine.

Usagi could not sew. He’d run across some of their earlier fights, thinking at one point the subject had come up. The details escaped him now, but there was something about a contest and an old man. She’d screamed her own lack of knowledge to his face. It was all he could pull from the years-old memory, which left few suspects for the current dilemma.

Of course, he couldn’t imagine her father or brother reading Homes and Gardens magazine, or the racy romance novel it covered. Mamoru grinned again, quietly tucking that bit of information away for safe keeping. The fishiness of the situation had bothered him since yesterday, and knowing Usagi like he did could prove she wanted nothing more than to be viewed as an adult. The idea that maybe it hadn’t been planned by her at all flashed through his mind, but he squashed it. 

Within minutes, he found himself back in the same eerily bright room, watching over the sleeping girl while his thoughts whisked together. 

He’d only come to return her jacket. There had never been another motive in his head than that. But there was something fishy going on. Usagi was old enough now, she could almost be in college. Where had the time gone? How had she found the time for karate when she never takes time for school? Had that changed as well? He hadn’t seen her at the arcade in almost a year. Of course with schedule changes and homework, and the obvious Moon distraction, he honestly hadn’t thought of it.

“Here, Saori-san! Try this on! This will show you, Chiba-san, yes. Very clever.” The girl had dribbled the words together in a bright splash of interest and intrigue as the familiar brunette head glided forward. The real story came when the last button was pinned in place. Saori’s voluptuous figure was decimated instantly, making her clothes appear much too large and childish.

He’d seen enough. A woman that graciously proportioned had no hope in the world of appearing normal in such a jacket. Poor Usagi had been the victim of overprotective parents and a world gone terribly wrong. Maybe she was immature, maybe she wasn’t. The short spitfire was not one to take an insult laying down, and the solid, mournful turn of her eyes in the spring showed she had great depth hidden within her. It may be time to go back and read her term papers for the first time, maybe get a firsthand look into the inner workings of the increasingly complicated puzzle of her mind. 

It would have to wait till after finals. His first two were tomorrow, and the nightmare that presented would be more than enough to distract for the next few days. If anything, maybe he could bring up the subject with Motoki during their study session. His mind’s eye brought with it a kaleidoscope of memories with her, the fire of their fights, the solemn understanding of their talk, the flash of toned, trained movements as her enemies fell one by one.

He was still staring at her. Several minutes had passed in this one position, tracing the lines of her moonlit face in confusion. The blankets coated her form such that they would be no clue against his raging thoughts. He found himself really questioning whether or not he should be suspicious of more than that. They had always burned against each other, rubbed the wrong way, flared tempers. She had always appeared so… different. The sleeping woman shifted only slightly, setting the silver-painted hair blazing in the soft ribbon of moonlight leaking from the clouds. Her breathing was a steady heartbeat to the cozy room.

Hesitation eroded the movement from his limbs. He stared just a moment longer, noting that the dark circles were well gone, and the hollowness he’d seen hours before had dissipated. The only thing to see now was her.

Mamoru was smiling to himself as he slipped back out the yawning window and into the night. It was enough distraction to miss the soft patter of fallen metal on carpet.  
.  
.  
…………………………

For the first time in months, maybe even years, the night slipped silently by without a hint of fear or dread. The long-induced terrors that had once haunted the hours between waking lay silent. Steady warmth from the caramel-toned summer sunlight bid welcome to the sweetly trilling birds. The steady, warm thrum of a kitten’s purr added a gentle rhythm to the rapid soprano of summer sounds skittering past the open window.

 

Hazy, dream-filled blue eyes blinked in response to the heady mixture, the soft scent of lilac breezing through the room. For the first time in years, the blond shifted upward without feeling the exhaustion slowly pulling her back down into the billowing softness. The familiar surroundings panned on all sides, just as she had left it the night before. It was difficult to believe that just yesterday she had run from her home in horror, in hopes of outrunning the now distant memories. 

Her fingers sought the familiar warm fur of her guide, and were rewarded with the soft reverberation of her purr in response. As grateful as she was for the respite, the question begged an answer. Why hadn’t she dreamed last night? Even a pleasant memory would have been nice, but it was all peacefully dark. 

She rubbed at her eyes softly, slipping out from the covers and crawling awkwardly around the sleeping cat. The girl swished her hair back, thankful she’d taken the pigtails down last night before bed. Sometimes it just left her head achy in the morning. Today was going to be a really good kind of day. Even as the closet door slid open, visions of the arcade and the girls were bubbling up in her mind. 

Bright birdsong erupted from the outside world, drawing the girl close to the sun-swept opening. The large sycamore swirled like oil through the air, glistening along every leaf. The bundle of clothing in her arms slid a little as she relaxed, breathing in deeply. Warm summer air and the promise of a new day made her feet dance across the carpet before connecting with something sharp and hard. The girl moaned, glancing down as she struggled to hold her injured foot to find the cause. 

“What?!” She screeched, horrified. The bundle spewed across the floor as a pale, trembling hand fled to her mouth. The yowl of her guardian rumbled somewhere far away as the same shaking hand reached forward to touch the shining object. The engraving met with the cool flesh of her fingertips, warmed by the sun till it was uncomfortable to touch.

M. Chiba

The cover flipped upward, it’s cracked face a broken reflection of lost time. Her throat was swollen shut, chest heaving for breath regardless. The room swerved to the right as she finally forced air in an out of burning lungs. She fought the urge to scream, though it was tearing little lines in her throat to do it. The terrified shudder raced up her spine at the thought of... No, she couldn’t even bear to put it together. 

The soft feline purring broke through her thoughts long enough to clutch the broken timepiece to her chest in abject horror. What would Luna say if she ever saw it?

“Oi, Usagi-chan…Usa..” the cat bawlked, watching as her furiously blushing charge raced past her and toward the hallway. The cat shook her furry head in disbelief before rolling her eyes heavenward. “Oh that ditz. She probably forgot to put in her retainer or something.”

The bathroom door slammed shut hard enough to make it shake in the molding. The panicking blond flung her arms out wide, feeling he could break through the thin wood any moment and take his revenge. The image of his large, Adonis shoulders breaking through just above her ear had her quaking, gasping for breath. 

“Please no!” she whispered, more to herself than the thought. He knew. Terrified sobs shuddered free of her aching chest and tears were splashing across her feet.

Just beyond the barrier of the door, a loud purr began to beat across the wood and into her shaking back.  
.  
.  
……………

Uncertainty and fear were captors of the day. Every corner wore the guise of an enemy and every sound became a battle cry. The frightened woman could not force herself to focus with the deluge raging around her head. The countless hours between dawn and twilight stretched on into the distance, taking with it the frazzled ends of her patience. Her fingers clamped over the broken piece in her pocket, though with fear or hope she would never be sure. The visions of their fight plagued her, riddled with doubt and insecurity. 

The terrifying reality that he was more than a passerby in her life- even an inevitability, was beyond all understanding. Yes, in theory, they had talked and enjoyed mutual company, in a year, she had thought maybe… but then the rush of a tangible reality that he could crush broke through. It was too much. She was a child. He’d said so to her. He had categorized her as entirely unacceptable. He was the epitome of old Hollywood villain glamour, everything she had been taught to fear and avoid.

Then there were the memories. Endymion had been just as dark, just as foreboding. She remembered still the first time she’d seen him, cloaked in shadow beneath the looming darkness of a tree. Even asleep, he had been intimidating. The moment his eyes had locked on her, she’d felt the tremor of a caged animal, all fear and panic and lust. It was woven through her being with the salty tang of uncertainty. Yet his voice had been kind and reassuring, his movements slow and deliberate. 

The two were remarkably similar in stance and bearing, but that part of his brain that ran what he said… had to be terribly damaged.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” the gentle voice broke through her thoughts, enough to make her jump and squeal. Naru’s soft, oceanic eyes were concerned again, bringing yesterday’s events to the hazy forefront of her mind. They had been talking… and she couldn’t quite remember the rest of it. 

“Um…working?” She spat lamely, all confusion and panic. Naru’s face twisted sideways in utter disbelief and mild consternation.

“Y-yes, I see. But about the fight yesterday…” the girl tried again, this time a little more deliberate despite her obvious desire not to just come out and say it. Images of yesterday flooded through finally, though several of them made no sense and seemed to be coated in blood and gore. With a few moments, however, it became quite clear that Naru had seen something she did not expect. Usagi gulped.

“Oh, oh, yes that. Well. Rei-chan says that…” she began, but the redhead waved it away.

“Ah. That explains why you’ve been avoiding me anyway. I wonder about that girl. But you are feeling better, right? After we dropped you off?” a chunk of lunch was shoved in her mouth while Usagi tried to process the question.

“Oh. I…don’t remember that part.”

“Well of course you don’t! After all, you did pass out and everything. We were worried about you.”

Usagi didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to. The memories still seemed out of order and confusing. What she did remember was thugs and Naru being in trouble. Someone else had been there too…. It was too foggy. The images ran together with memories and strange feelings, and she was sure she’d broken some sort of code between her and the girls. Naru seemed to know exactly how Rei fit into the picture.

“Hey, did Chiba-san drop by after we left?” 

The comment shattered frozen silence with an irrefutable twang. A cold chill broke across her body hard enough to hurt. Though it had long acclimated in temperature, the pocket watch seemed unbearably hot in her left skirt pocket. She forced her face straight, but could feel the burn climbing along her neck and jaw.

“Um… what?” she muttered, barely able to move her aching face. Naru nodded.

“Yesterday. He didn’t then?” the earnest green eyes fell as the silence continued. She turned back to her lunch.

“Why would he come by?” Usagi stuttered, not in the least interested in her food. Her friend shrugged conspiratorially, holding her chopsticks up to the light.

“Because he carried you home?”

The blond felt as though all the wind had been unceremoniously beaten from her lungs. Mamoru…he must have dropped the watch when he was at her house. The heady weight lifted from her chest with such vicious precision she nearly lost her balance. Reality split a little at the seams as her friend continued to prattle on girlishly. There was something about staring, a monster, and Umino, but she couldn’t seem to focus on that at the moment.

The memories came flooding back. Not just the events leading up to yesterday’s blackout, but the dreams and the past. The sickening, gut wrenching sensation of it all settled across her stomach like lead. Mamoru must have watched the fight. He must have watched her blackout, and gone to help. She sucked at her teeth in thought, terrified of what that meant. 

She wanted so much to believe he was the same heartless bastard he had been a year ago. But especially these last few months, the few times she’d seen him there had been something different. Just the way he talked about Moon had changed from lust to longing, and soon he would know the truth. Did he realize how close he’d come? Did she?

Her fingers clenched the metal disc in her pocket in a white-knuckle grip.

“Usa-chan, really are you ok? You are way more spacey than normal.”

“Sorry?” Golden hair whipped upward, blue eyes scanning the face of her friend. There was worry, concern, and compassion etched in her warm green eyes. “Sorry Naru-chan, I know. A lots been happening, and Mamoru…”

“Seriously, girl, I know.” She took a deep swig from her drink, nodding and kicking her feet. 

“Y-you do?” the blond gulped in fear. Had Naru found out about her secret? No, the redhead would be pissed about it. The raging fear that had so consumed her only 5 minutes ago still teased at the corners of her mind. She shuddered, trying to erase the effects of her paranoia.

“Well yeah, that fight at the crown was epic! Everyone talked about it for months!”

Oh, that. It probably had been. She hadn’t been part of the whispered gossip around school in a long time; hadn’t even remembered it would happen. All she could focus on back then was the pain of rejection. Even that had been smothered by the following responsibility, the work, the frustration, the fear. When had she lost sight of the people in her life? When had she last really spoken with Naru?

“I'm an idiot."

“Trust me, he is. Besides, you would think the way he was staring at you, he'd be the one pining. Ps, going braless did prove to be as effective as the magazines say."

Oh gods, surely she hadn't run out without...but changing into Naru's uniform had included some muddled thoughts on the subject. She felt hot beneath the skin, angry at both of them and strangely emboldened. He couldn't be bothered to look at her unless she was compromised; then he just stared.

He was so close. The binding spell was a vice around her throat. Every lifetime to follow, he would be there, and it would never be the way things were again. He couldn't be bothered to take her seriously, he couldn't see what he was doing to her in the mean time. That man could not be bothered to think before he acted!

It was so Endymion. He should have left things as they were, at least in the knowledge that nothing had come between them. He should have known the spirit of Kronos would try to.... 

No. He probably had no idea how evil and cruel the time God had been. That beast had eaten his own children for centuries before his son had struck him down. All of this had been in her early youth, at the dawn of man. Endymion would have no recollection of that.

She shuddered, the true weight of her life boggling the 16 year old human mind. Next time science decided to say there was a big bang, she could quip it was the equivalent of a Tuesday, and happened after breakfast.

"Hello! Usagi!” the redhead finally shoved against her friend with one shoulder. 

With the last vestiges of her fear still lingering in the back of her throat, the young heroine finally faced her best friend head on. The words wouldn’t come though, there were too many things to say, and as much as she wanted it to include her night life, it just wasn’t the right time for that. Instead, she settled for another kind of honesty.

“I feel trapped. It’s like I can’t get away from him, even if I distance myself, and even if I try to think of anyone else. It’s like a leash around my throat and I hate it, because he already said no. He told me it wasn’t possible. And I can’t seem to let it go, and he… Naru, he would kill me if he knew…”

Without warning, her classmate wrapped both arms around her in a gentle hug. It reminded her sharply of Rei, all cinnamon and warmth. She ached for a time when this used to be normal between the two friends. It had been a long few years pushing her away. Usagi returned it, feeling little comfort despite herself.

“Don’t worry about him. Just do what I do; get a new outfit, look killer, and find somebody else.” Naru shrugged once they’d pulled away. The blond couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “Also, that uniform sucks. You should try getting one that fits.”  
.  
.  
……….

By the end of the second day, the downward spiral had all but engulfed her pathetic, measly little life with every emotion known to man. Part of her wanted to rage at him, smack him upside the head for his idiotic decisions. The other part just wanted to be done with this. He would find out, he would realize who she was, and all of this would just be a painful, humiliating memory. She stalked out of the Crown for the second time that week, wishing he’d been there just so she could haul off and beat his face in.

She was seething. Yesterday, it had been fear, then reality, then betrayal, and now rage. How dare he? Of all the ridiculous, selfish things that stupid man could possibly do, he goes and sells his soul? Not just to anyone, mind you, but literally the God trapped in proverbial Hell for all time. What an idiot. 

Love burned her chest like a bad scar. But there was no salve, no scalpel to remove the constant ache. If he was so certain of them, then why did he have to snap a collar on her? So maybe the universe did blow up, and maybe they did get a second chance, but there were so many strings attached you could practically see the puppeteer snarling from above.

The bento box squealed in agony beneath her hands as she stalked down the street toward home. The girls had taken one look at their pissed off leader, and wisely shut their mouths about the previously planned training session. It would have been better if they had continued in their plans. She really needed to hit something.

The others had all given their opinions multiple times: she was wasting her life on this good for nothing idiot. She had more important things to worry about than this. Even Makoto, who hadn’t witnessed any of their encounters could agree that the guy was a jack-off based on behavior alone. What she hadn’t bothered to tell them was that her heart had literally been enslaved without her consent. And it was eating her alive.

Only Minako had kept silent. It figures the Senshi of love would know there were underlying reasons; and that they needed to be kept. The guardians had never known about her betrayal in the distant past. They would never know that the downfall of the empire rested almost entirely on her small shoulders. 

Her life was chaos. Exhausted, emotional, burning chaos. The cacophony of sound and image continued just beyond her reality, as if everything else was still normal.

The books were clutched closer, as if she could soak in comfort from their weight by osmosis. Under normal circumstances, Naru would be chittering away with her about boys and jewelry and makeup. She just didn’t have it in her to be excited about these things anymore. Boys were out of the question, she’d worn some pretty expensive jewelry in her day, and frankly makeup just made her think of transforming.

Her feet slid across the pavement like a grindstone. She didn’t actually want to go anywhere, especially home. To stand still, however, would only intensify every thought process till it drove her mad.

She would have to come to grips with her mistakes in the past. She would have to claim her responsibility in the war that ended it all. Too wrapped up in one man, she’d lost her friends, and family, and world. It was not a good enough excuse. This time, she swore, it would be better. 

He’d made that easier now, since the one major obstacle had all but removed himself from the situation. As tired and lonely as she felt, at least it made her focus on one goal: destroy utterly the darkness. She would hunt them down, one by one, and snuff the life from them like a candle. If they had just left it well enough alone millennia ago, she could have…

What? Been with her prince? Lived happily ever after?

She grunted angrily, kicking at the dirt with her shoe. Her mother never would have allowed that. After all, the Titans were a dying breed even then. Most had been locked away for heinous crimes before she had even been born. Looking back, she wondered if the ‘protection’ from the other planets had been a secret pact to keep their power in check from the younger gods.

Politics. It all came down to which story and who told it. She glared at the passing sidewalk in disgust.

“Usagi, is it?”

The girl glanced up curiously. Sunlight burst off the shock of white hair, the photo-negative of dark skin, and the scream died in her throat. She struggled against the vice of his hand for a bare moment before being hurled toward the street. A car whizzed by her head, horn blaring and brakes screeching. She screamed again, feeling the hot molten light start to swirl beneath her skin.

Traffic stopped around her. She gulped a breath of air, shakily pushing herself up to her elbows. A few of the cars had been thrown down the street, effectively blocking the intersection on both sides. Thankfully there were no pedestrians on the small suburban landscape. With warmth bursting from every cell in her body, she screamed her transformation.

She was still crackling when red boots touched the ground. Last time a fight played out in an area like this, it was with babies. Something told her the Dark Kingdom General would be much more heartless than the simpering little Youma. But what was better, the business district? The shopping district? There were just too many people, too many liabilities.

“Seems you’ve made yourself a nuisance, Moon.” He murmured, dead gaze freezing through her skin. Like Mamoru’s eyes, hollow and empty, and cold. The sight was so familiar, so agonizingly similar. Who had he been again? She racked her brain for some memory that would give her the upper hand. It had been…

Oh yes, Endymion’s General; the one that lost his soul. As in Endymion’s trainer, confidant, and best friend, easily one of the most deadly forces on the planet in the old days. She gulped, suddenly much more afraid that before. All that anger and rage she had been feeling before were snuffed out by the tepid features. Mamoru’s best friend was going to kill her.

Kunzite smirked darkly, knowing he had the Goddess trapped as his demon mistress had always wanted. It had been a lucky guess that lead him to believe the young girl was in secret his enemy. After all, even with the sudden fame the Senshi had gained, only one school girl wore her hair like that. He hefted his blackened sword from the ground, feeling the ages-old dust covering fall away. 

Moon shifted her stance, tears refusing to leak from her bloodshot eyes for another moment. It all came down to this –a fight to the death with his best friend. Gods, it was ironic. The stupid General had no idea who he was fighting. Moon had gotten better at it, yes, but Serenity burning just beneath the surface was another threat altogether. She glanced at her arms, curious to see the glow burn brighter and brighter in the face of danger.

Kunzite picked a great day to die.

The silver crystal materialized within her gloved fist, white hot with the silvery light of her raging emotions. The diamond hard material built within itself, forming within her hand and lengthening. His dark, lifeless gray eyes traced the razor-like edge with little show of his growing anticipation. The hard stone was burning within her hand, sharpening into a semblance of a foreign blade, the Sword of Sealing.

The first heft left the shimmering, flame drunken sword leveled above her head, her feet wide and steady. The usual silver glint of her eyes flashed in maddening rage, even her fuku was sparking with power from the high-held weapon. The solid set of her mouth led even Kunzite to believe there would be no mercy, no holding back. He would have it no other way.

Their blades met, the powerful clash boomed in the afternoon air and burst in flashes of light as they hissed edgewise along each other. Moon feigned backward, her steps steady and sure as the blade was lunged toward his chest. It was quick thinking and a heavy sideswipe that kept his false-beating heart sealed within the reanimated chest. The two weapons clashed, spinning with dizzying accuracy.

The heavy weight of metal and strength ached against her arms, but she would not back down from his attack. Rather, she thrust her knee deep into his groin, and the sudden loss of that force nearly knocked her off balance. The man fell back, clutching himself in protective agony as the sword hung limp from his other hand. Even in pain, his dead, decaying eyes held all the uncaring emotion Mamoru’s had. The goddess within flared at the sight, merciless as she advanced on his huddled form.

The solid hit of boot and flesh knocked the general back, splaying the warrior’s hair along the dark ground. The furious blond could not let it go, could not be bothered to see the pitiful gasping of her enemy as he slid away from her. She didn’t need to, it wasn’t in her to kill the man for attacking her. But that didn’t mean she was above taking out all of the frustration and heartache Mamoru had settled over her shoulders the past year.

Besides, Kunzite was not a good man. She had no qualms taking care of him for that reason alone. 

The man struggled to his feet, spewing profanities from his bleeding mouth and threatening death. The harsh words fled passed her unheard, and the clack of legendary red boots beat their death chant into the pavement once more. The sword flashed and glowered, whipped through the air where his head had been moments before.

The General slid back, forcing the jellied legs to stand beneath him and tossing matted white hair back. His short nemesis flipped the crystal blade expertly in her hand as she came forward, her eyes promising slow, agonizing death. Hell yes! He would enjoy this encounter far more than anticipated.

The clash of their blades resonated once more, a sharp staccato of parries and thrust as the complicated dance played out. Where his brute strength and size should have mattered, her agility won out. Once more, the spinning roundhouse connected deep into his lower chest, and brought with it the sharp crack of broken bone. The quick successive crack of her other heel smashed into his jaw and sent him falling backward.

The shining sword bit with all the grace of a lightning strike, wedging directly between bone and flesh in his left arm. The edge sawed and shrieked against the slick black metal meant to defend from such an attack. For the first time in all the years he had waited, Kunzite could see the burning fury of a Goddess within the usually vapid depths of her eyes. For even a brief moment, he remembered the feeling of betrayal when news of the affair broke. Now, looking into those eyes for himself, he could see the brightly burning glow that had summoned even his old Master from the earth to serve her.

The thought was ill timed. The sharp pain burst from his arm as she ripped back and thrust again. Again, the metal ground together, and again the shining sword drank blood from his wounds. He heaved the sodden breath from his lungs, feeling the stab of bone as his chest filled with air again. She tore free once more and spun, summoning all the power she could muster, and forced her foot as far into his chest as it would go. 

The attack hit dead on, and left her sprawled on the street as her enemy collapsed. The poison claymore dripped from lifeless fingers before he could clutch his side in agony. Even through the jacket, the sharp protrusion of two ribs broke through skin. Wet and slick, his clothing clung to the fiery skin. He coughed, eyes wide at the sensation of blood leaking from cold lips.

The Goddess slid upward, her sword blazing hot enough to sizzle the red liquid dipped along it’s length. It’s wicked murmur gurgled just above inaudible, and began the writhing sense of fear deep within his bones. He fought a helpless shudder, sweating with the effort of every breath. The clack of her boots brought his eyes around again. The crimson leather didn’t even have the decency to carry the stain of his lifeblood. That bitch.

There was no use trying to stop the oncoming kick that sent him crashing into the earth, screaming as the shattered ribcage ground along uneven ground. The agony burned every nerve till his eyes were speckled white and black. He coughed again. The ooze fell from his mouth in a river of pain and humiliation. He’d lost to the most pathetic Senshi of all, and lost bad.

Her foot pressed fury through his body, forcing the gargled screech to break from his mouth. The weight of her body settled directly over the major break, and pushed. With grim determination, she waited for his howl to die down before releasing his chest.

“You have much to atone for, Kunzite.” her soft voice promised agonizing death. He coughed –a semblance of a laugh in the face of his enemy- and spat the blackened lifeblood at her face.

“Bitch,” he gasped heavily, quickly becoming a scream of agony as she leaned deeper into his chest. She sliced a chunk of his jacket free to wipe her face clean again. Still furious, she waited for the sound to die out before releasing the pressure. She could feel the silvery hum of her blood, the familiar power of her old self burning through the mortal flesh. Even the Gods had wrath, no matter how benevolent they may seem; and he had done everything in his power to earn it. Should he try another stunt like that again…

“It was you that led the attack on my family, my life. It was you that betrayed the trust of your prince and let that demon witch turn you. If I had any sense at all, I’d use the crystal to burn you to nothing.” She murmured, feeling the heady drunkenness of power. The human within her struggled for control, while the goddess began to tear through. 

He gasped helplessly, shocked at the effort it took to form words with his numb face. Her eyes were glowing, her skin sparkling. He could have won. Perhaps had he taken on a Senshi, instead of a Goddess. There was no mistaking the being before him was in many ways no longer human. The crystal blade hefted above his head, suspended evenly as the Titan reached high for the final blow. 

The shimmering beneath her skin dimmed bit by glowing bit. Her sword lowered slowly, and faded away until barely a speck of a gem in her hand, then twinkled into nothingness. He hissed, suddenly realizing the hidden location of the Guinshuizu. “No, I think I’ll just let Beryl find you. I hope she knows who your intended target was today.”

He flew through every possible profanity he knew, in every language he could think of. The Queen had been adamant in knowing every inch of the plan, and was even now on her way to triumph over her simpering, crying enemy. Perhaps the small shred of information he’d gleaned from this meeting would be enough to spare his currently pathetic life.

“Now, leave. Me. Alone.” She ground, pressing her foot into the wound once more to accentuate her words. He howled again, wishing there was enough strength in his leaden arms to reach for the fallen sword. Rather than try, and force the victor to do as she had insinuated, he spewed the last of his energy toward the shadows. With the dying vestibules of his eyesight, the ground gave way beneath him. 

Moon stepped back, feeling the sudden chill of wind against her wet face. The burn of Serenity had faded, leaving behind a lost and broken Senshi, who could even now barely register the thought of her actions. They had been cruel, callous, and thoughtless. She had been so ready to kill another person, had justified it in her mind. 

The confused, broken girl turned from the scene of her fight, only thought to break away from the actions she so easily could have done.

Was it justifiable? In a way, the Goddess had been right. Kunzite was truly a horrible man who had destroyed everything in his path out of jealousy. Part of her wished she would have shoved that sword strait through him. The other part of her just wanted to cry.

He’d looked so much like Mamoru, with those frost-bitten December eyes, the callous twist of his mouth. It would be exactly that look, that snarl, with which he would reach into her broken chest cavity and…

Her whole body shuddered, leaping from suddenly crowded streets to rooftop. He would never understand. He would always be there to never understand! The future seemed as dim and painful as the past year of her life, and it was suffocating. Her chest burned with the effort of her tears and running. Her eyes felt drugged and heavy, her legs useless and leaden. The faltering form fell against a broken ledge.

More than anything, more than love or responsibility, she craved the freedom. For both of them, for all their lives together or apart; she needed to be free of this stupid bond before it devoured her whole. Even now, she could feel the beginning of a thrum through her lower chest.  
.  
.  
………………….

The last moment of stress flicked from his shoulders the second the doors flew open. While everyone else hung around to chat about their laborious afternoon, he bolted for the treeline. Half-way through that test, he’d felt her change. Not the icy cold fingers of a regular fight, but the burning white-hot announcement of Serenity. He had no doubt the Goddess could easily handle anything in her way, but the cord had thrummed with fear and rage, and finally something else. He just hoped he hadn’t left her waiting too long.

He slid neatly between buildings, careful to glance around him before allowing the shadows to lick across his form. The tug led him downtown, and he went ghosting over the rooftops in anxious excitement. Her blue and red uniform looked dark in the oncoming night. She was tucked away beneath a ledge, a crystal sword in her fist. 

“Moon?” He asked softly. The warm summer wind whipped around them as he came forward, but she did not turn her face to him. The blade hefted from the ground, her other hand clutching at her chest. 

“Persephone.” She whispered, her voice course and harsh in the night breeze. The molten sword was hefted high, blazing in the darkness before falling in a decisive arc. For a brief flash, the silken cord binding the essence of their souls flashed a brilliant gold before the pure, hot light of her blade ripped savagely through it.

Thunder boomed across the heavens as raw power tore through the air and into the unknowing atmosphere above. The sizzling, ruptured wound spewed molten brass in all directions before fading into the night. The electric shock shrieked throughout his body like a bolt from the king of heaven himself, the force collapsed his weak knees. The first short, labored breath crackled with the knowledge that death had not yet claimed him, though it had been close. The frigid spider web of ice licked at his soul, and beckoned him enter the dark river and be lost from this world. The weary pull at the core of his being soaked life from his lungs and threatened to pull the darkness close once more.

Blearily, he sought the form of his ancient lover through the pain, knowing she must be experiencing the same. She was leaning heavily on the ledge, her white-gloved hands stained with something dark and ominous as they clung to the granite in anguish. The sword was trapped beneath that hand, the edge of it blackened and steaming as it began to shrivel inward. Her free hand clutched desperately at her chest, mimicking his own and betraying her vital wound.

He gulped, the need to comfort her washing his own pain somewhere far away. Her shaking, stooped shoulders whispered through the darkness, forcing his clenched hands to shift toward her in vain hope of giving some comfort to the pain. Though the vision pressed hotly on the still gaping wound where their souls had once connected, and filtered strength back into his legs enough to shift forward. His goddess was sobbing in agony, her glorious head pressed tightly to the unfeeling rock, and every fiber of his being screamed to hold her till the world made sense again.

It was too late. The shining woman forced herself upright, their eyes connected for the briefest second before she gracefully swung her legs over the side. The movement painted night air in ghostly white, and the fall was littered with the violent thrum of feathers through wind.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

He couldn’t choke on the sobs any longer. They ricocheted like gunfire in the small confines of his room. The pent-up, burning sensation of tears finally seared his face for the first time since…god, he had no idea when. Unbearable throbbing weight ground into his lungs from all sides and squeezed the world-rending howl from an already void chest cavity. It was worse than emptiness, worse than solitude. From somewhere deep beneath the left rib cage, he could literally feel the open, gushing wound of the broken Link.

Broken…

The torment was more than physical, psychological. The constant tug at his side had become a searing piece of hell he could not escape. He clung to the walls in agony, barely forcing one foot in front of the other. It was no use trying a pain reliever, there was no physical wound. He could only hope the stash of scotch he kept there was enough to drown out the sound of her throaty, broken voice in his head. Or worse, the silver blue disappointment Serenity had given him. He cursed, feeling the fresh sizzle of his wound at the thought of her. 

He sobbed, gripping his chest in agony. The thought again gashed open the bleeding laceration he once called his soul. She had made that choice without him. Why? The unfeeling, un-answering room stared blandly back, the rumple of his half made bed a testament to his rushed morning.

It was so empty. The walls stood bare, naked from all interest or warmth or life. The sterile, perfect greeting of his dust-free dresser and immaculate nightstand was offensive on every level. He surged upward, and gripped the first thing his hands could grab, a college textbook, and threw it with every ounce of strength possible into the disgusting hard wood. The dented book burst from the spine out, littering the perfectly organized area in chaos. 

Oh god, he needed vodka, or Patrone…or some Everclear; anything to rip these thoughts from his head before he lost any semblance of sanity he had left. He shambled through the room, feet slipping unevenly on the slick pages of his broken textbook. There had to be something in the kitchen. When was the last time he’d bought alcohol?

There, back behind even cleaning supplies, his fingers slipped limply against the smooth glass that could only mean liquid relief. As hazy, dark eyes rose above the level of the counter, cradling the bottle and his chest, the dark shadow caught his gaze. For a crazed, half imagined moment, he could see Kronos’ time-wrinkled face mocking him from the shade. 

He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on when he came in. The emptiness would be too much, and it was more comfortable to pass the burning liquid down his parched throat if the light wasn’t blaring into his retinas. Still, as he slunk toward the living room, his eyes never strayed from the patch of broken darkness, searching uncomprehendingly for what could never be there again.

His trembling fingers brushed the empty, dead thrust of the rose’s stem in horror. Across the ground, the speckled signs of life bled in pools of shriveling silver and white. The light was gone, burst just as the head had done, and shed all at once. The last sign of their history lay in broken tatters beneath the crushing weight of his feet.

He knelt, feeling the first hint of a buzz as his fingers brushed along the crusting, half dead petals in anguish. It must have exploded when her sword had ripped through the bond, it must have ruptured even this anchor. He couldn’t hold back the hard, choking, rasping agony tearing from his chest as he laid down among the shattered dreams he’d held so close. 

The soft, heady scent still clung to the petals strewn around him. Their gentle crush against his face helped to soak away the heartbreak as he nursed the bottle closer. Hard alcohol had been a respite in the past, and yet this time the pain did not numb so much as blur the edges to a blinding mass. The fiery brew scorched his tongue and throat all the way down, forcing more tears to the surface as it did.

She deserved better than this. He should have done better. Over the past year she had grown so much, had changed so drastically. It was clear her goal in life was to protect the people around her. It was exactly what she should be doing. What has his goal been?

The sudden doubt tickled against his conscious. He was just a man. Maybe he had more power than the average one, and maybe he did spend his nights fighting demons; in the end he was just human. Humans make mistakes. Humans keep secrets. Humans love until they break. What was he compared to a Goddess?

One foot jut painfully out into the room, and knocked solidly against the coffee table. It was a play of the light, a strange shifting of the shadows that brought the ungraded final papers into view. The thought twanged with responsibility, which he promptly and firmly ignored. Right now, he’d fail every damn one of them just to spite the class for being such a stupid distraction.

The bottle sloshed a little in the silence as he pulled again and again, feeling the numbing medicine finally start to war against his heaving chest. She may as well have ripped that blade straight through flesh and bone. The gushing liquid brass coated his eyelids every time he blinked, and brought back the memory of her blackened, strained gloves clutching rock. He didn’t have to see her face to understand the pain…

His tired, sleepless eyes settled on the bright corner of a term paper highlighted from somewhere outside the sliding glass door. Even from here, he could see the drunken slosh of Odango Atema’s handwriting. There was something he could do right at least. There was so much he needed to atone for. So many things he had done wrong all this time. Usagi had taken the brunt of that pain, just because she was smiling. He had hated her for that smile, had told himself she would never know the kind of torment his life had been. Ironic now to know she was the other side of the coin.

He pulled another swig from the quickly draining bottle and fumbled upward to grasp at the sheet numbly. There was no coherent thought in his head. Frankly, the alcohol didn’t leave much room for synapses. The man struggled, straining his eyes through the darkness and fighting the urge to compensate for distance that didn’t exist. It took several tries, but eventually the corner of loose leaf was tugged free with a shower if typed words. The sheets broke the shadows in pixels of white and gray, and added to the strange inertia that gripped his fuzzy head.

The drunken man fell back, the world spinning circles in the most abominable way. The bottle sloshed and thunked hard into the carpet, caught between his shoulder and the ground. Even as uncomfortable as that was, he could not force himself to move from overtop of it. The sharp edge dug into his tired muscle. The mix of scotch and rose was overpowering, enough to push the thought of his broken chance into the swimming blackness.  
.  
.  
……….

It was hours later that bleary eyes opened once more. The dark night had edged on without him, and the first breaking rays of sunlight bloomed across the jagged horizon. The clouds were beginning to bleed orange and red, and the sight of it belched an unwanted thought of bloody days to come. The ancient warning rang through an already broken thought process. His throbbing head lurched in protest to the weak fumblings of his hands over cloth and paper.

The overpowering scent of hard liquor swam against his nose, breaking through the last of the drunken stupor. She’d left him. Worse, she’d broken them apart permanently. He clutched the paper from his face, irritated that the once soaked sheet was sticking to the short stubble on his cheek. His hand slid around enough to crumple the offending piece and lift it toward the weak, multi-colored light. The slur of words came in great, unintelligible scribbles half smeared by what must have been tears last night. 

A term paper. How incredibly unprofessional he’d been in treating it like that. His professor would probably ream him for the indiscretion, and frankly Odango would kill him. The gaping, open wound at his soul’s chest stung harshly, drawing sharp breath from him. He gulped, flinging the half empty bottle in the desperate move to cover the aching spot. His muscles were searing at his arms and legs, clenching abominably at his neck and head, and left a confused and aching man in it’s wake.

What was wrong with him? Why was this reaction happening now, of all times it could have hit? Even last night had been more…more spiritual than physical. He gulped again, feeling the cool air rasp against his dry throat. Rather than wonder, he stumbled to his knees and began reaching for the scattered sheets in the vain hope of finding some sense of order. Rather, his fingers brushed against one sheet in particular, and a shot of static raced up his arm hard enough to hurt.

He cursed, drawing the throbbing finger to his lips. This was stupid. His hangover would start soon and there’s no way he’d want to work on them then either. Frustrated, still in pain, he went to grab the sheet in one handful and fell, slipping from the side table and pulling a second free. He lit hard into the ground, hard enough to force a tired groan through clenched teeth. 

It took every ounce of strength he could muster to force himself up again. He needed coffee…and pain killers. The beginning of a migraine brewed in the back of his skull, promising slow and painful torture if he didn’t get working on it soon. It had been so long since he’d had one, he’d almost forgotten how bad they were. Yes, some black coffee and a shower and…then probably more scotch. Maybe even a lot more.

The birthing light of early morning burst across the horizon as his feet steadied once more. His fingers still grasped the offending sheet that had cost him his balance, the stickiness of his fingers clinging to the heavy white paper. He glanced at it, tiredly wiping at his wet eyes one more time.

It was beautiful. The lancing pain bursting from his heart dropped the man to his knees before the piece. Rough hands gripped the edge, the breath died in his lungs. Burning, pleading tears ripped from an agonized throat; his head bowed in shame. The blurred image, even through tears, was too much. How could have not have seen it? How could he have looked over the fact?

Her graphite form was perfect, the uniform blowing in the wind. The gentle pressure folded material across the supple curves of her body, long lean legs outlined in thigh high black boots, the heels gave her a strength and poise she had never shown. It was none of these things, however that gave her away.

Her silvery blue eyes were steady, determined. The set of her jaw could have been accompanied by any royal command. Her hands were open and inviting, and conveyed a sure and steady strength. Her stance was confident. The shimmering golden hair flew back behind her, showing her power in form, showing her as a photograph could never do.

There was no doubt in his mind now, staring into this drawing, this simple sketch, that a Goddess, Princess, and warrior stared straight back at him, defying him; commanding both respect and recognition. 

The simple, dirty lines of her imagination blurred together till they crowned the form like a burning corona through his bloodshot eyes. It was so simple, so easy even a child could have drawn it. Yet there she was, his Goddess, staring him straight in the face through the mask of a schoolgirl. Her slurred, drunken signature hid among the hint of shaded foliage in one corner, and crowned with a small anime bunny at the final ‘i’.

How had he never seen it? This stupid sketch all but announced her from the rooftops, no matter how unschooled the hand. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Usagi was a dead ringer for Moon. He had even broken into her house, as if he were some kind of creeper, and still… He set the page down with infinite care on the coffee table, unsure exactly what to make of the information. No wonder she hated him. No wonder she had told him he wouldn’t want to know.

Their conversation in this very apartment came back, the darkness within her, the lonely sorrow. Had he bothered to connect the dots... Even that damn rose had sparked at him with her there, all but screaming that his chosen was directly behind him. He hadn’t listened. He had never listened, even when his body had screamed when she was near. 

Worse yet, in his mind, was that he honestly didn’t know Usagi at all. She had been a child to him for so long that he hadn’t even noticed her growing up behind his back. She was still young, not yet 18, but as the picture showed, she was more than mature. The regal tilt of her head left no doubt that one day, somewhere down the line, his Goddess would return to her power and throne, that she would rule again. 

He fell back against the carpet. What was the point of trying now? What was the point of getting sober if all he wanted in the whole world was to drown his idiocy with drink? He groped endlessly for the fallen bottle, grateful he’d somehow managed to save half of the fiery liquid from a woolen death. It sloshed unevenly in his hand, but the burn at his throat and chest helped to numb the fresh pain. 

The first sheet lay by his face, forgotten in the rush for coffee. He grimaced, afraid to read the scathing piece knowing she’d written it. Right in front of his face this whole stupid time! He’d never even bothered to read one of them. Not one! Motoki was always so ready to help out his friend; that was because Motoki knew exactly who she was. Somewhere between outrage and betrayal, he slammed his fists into the carpet over and over. 

No wonder his friend had been so protective! How many times had Motoki gone ‘big brother’ when Moon was mentioned? How many times had his friend pushed him to do something selfless, when any other guy would have commiserated, joined in, and drank over it? How many times had the blond mentioned in passing that Usagi was not a child; that she should be taken seriously. Maybe he had been trying to say it. Maybe he wanted his friends to figure it out. The thought tore fresh sobs from him, slowed the anger of his hands on the dented flooring.

Every time. Motoki had gently brought up the subject of her papers when they were grading. She was practically the only constant thing they talked about. And here he had one, inches from his hand, ready to be discovered. Shakily, he reached for it, unable to stop the impending pain. It was likely he’d never be able to look her in the face again, too ashamed and prideful to admit that he could have…

Her bright voice started with the first line, upbeat and bubbly and nothing like his Senshi.

Persephone, the fallen goddess.

I guess the real reason I love this story so much is because it seems so real. Sure, the girl is some flower goddess dancing around in the breeze one day. Sure the guy she ends up with happens to be the God of death. It’s poetic.

The thing that really gets me about it, though, is her side of the story. She was minding her own business, had nothing to do with anything dark. And out of nowhere, this guy breaks up the party, drags her down, chains her there, and then tortures her with all the things she could have had if he’d just left her alone. And what does she do? She waits, day in and day out, pretty much forever. And then, right before she could have been saved, she just gives up and eats the pomegranate. 

I get that. Sometimes, things happen and you have no control over them. You want so much to wait it out, make things better, and remember the good times. I think, in the end you just give in because there’s no changing it on your own. You look at your life and you think there’s no way it could be yours. Nothing you’d ever done could possibly lead to this kind of end. But there it is, staring you in the face.

I wonder about how lonely she must have been, sitting down in those dark caves with no sunlight at all. She must have learned a lot how to defend herself, how to fight back. I imagine Hades was a real prick and probably made her feel stupid and useless all the time. After all, everyone has to go through death at some point, it’s just going to happen. I bet he thought he was pretty important. But flowers are about seeing the good in life. That’s probably what made him want her so bad.

Mamoru set the paper down carefully, allowing the bright gush of her voice to fade from his mind.  
“God, Motoki was so right. Her grammar is terrible.”  
Worse than the grammar, though, was the understanding that Moon may have worn a glamour to get his attention, but Usagi was no shadow runner to her counterpart. The maturity of her thoughts outlined not only the assignment, but mimicked her own life, accurately portrayed his, and set the stage for a much deeper conversation. 

Her tone bothered him. Though the voice in his head read with all the bright, bubbly chatter of a young girl, there was something off in the way she placed her words. It implied the same kind of stress that left one sleepless, and lonely. He knew it well. Again, and again he thought of the image of her tired, limp body hanging in his arms that day. It haunted him.

More than anything, more than even the resoundingly perfect image of her drawing, this paper was the proof he needed. Moon was trapped by him in more ways than one. She had come to accept her fate as a guardian of this world, and had adapted where before it seemed impossible to. The maturity of her words echoed their past conversations, brought many of the fights to mind, both in uniform and out. 

It was so obvious it made his teeth ache.

“Persephone.” He whispered, barely registering the word so much as the memory. They’d gone over the story in the beginning of his Lit class. He knew of it, vaguely, they hadn’t spent much time. His students had been assigned a writing project, along with something personal they had learned from the class. 

It was sad to see how she saw things. All this time he had been working towards the ‘us’ when really he should have seen it through her eyes. If their roles had been reversed, would she have signed a contract without him? Would she have kept it a secret, thinking it was for the best?

This bright, bubbly girl chained to him for all eternity, no way out, no way to ever be free; the fallen Goddess a slave to death for all time. She had never been a fighter before this life. She had never seen the darkness this world had to offer until that last battle. She had been so carefree, so soft and sweet and gentle. And he had crushed the life out of her, forced her to be something else.

The knowledge that he had done something so unforgiveable racked against his core so darkly, so hotly, it could only be considered true hell. A hell he would live in for all eternity.   
It was the guilt. This world was falling apart at the seams, and the monsters that had once plagued humanity were back again with a vengeance. It was the second world he had all but lead to complete destruction. The lives that had been lost before, the complete lack of care that both of them had displayed was so common at the time. It had been such a natural reaction to relations with the Gods. Everything else seemed so much less important; instead the things they should have been watching fell into disarray, and eventual revolution. 

Could he bear it if this world came to that too? Could he possibly allow that kind of an end to happen again when he had specifically been allowed certain powers to stop it? He couldn’t just rely on Moon to fix things he clearly was capable of handling. It was everywhere they had gone wrong back then. Strangely, he felt it was everything that had failed so far in this life. He hadn’t been quick enough to her side this time, and she had been forced to fight alone. The Goddess must have broken through, must have been…held back by it. 

She had seen what would be. Their love had been doomed from the beginning, and he in his obsessed, crazed mind had never considered what was happening around them then. It had led to the complete destruction of everything, everywhere. And here given a second chance, it was happening all over again.

That stupid chord, that sealing spell that had seemed like such a great idea before would prove to be their undoing. She had to break it.

She had to.

The aching weariness drug against him, augmented by drink and exhaustion. She had been right, there. He slumped back against the carpet, allowing the paper to fall from his grasp. Let the world burn. Let the endless ramble of useless thoughts bury themselves in the carpet. His Goddess had left him, as she had every right to. He had all but forced her to.

Maybe they really had been cursed from the beginning.  
.  
.  
……………..

“Minako-chan, what do you think of this one?” Rei asked for the fifth time in the last 20 minutes. The small shop was bustling with girls all trying to beat their way to the changing rooms. Usagi felt a little lost in the mix as more than one of them pushed past her a bit too roughly and sent her falling backward into Makoto’s waiting arms. The strong Amazon absent-mindedly righted her friend before returning both hands to her pockets.

Saturday was hardly the right time to visit the mall, though the crowds were distinctly smaller than they had been the year before. Shops were closed throughout the structure, chunks of the stood open to the sunlight, and yellow caution tape stretched seemingly for miles. Even with the attacks on the city worsening, it seemed everyone and their dog had to get a dress for the dance.

The girls giggled and sighed and nodded as Rei spun fashion-model like and returned to the dressing room. Usagi didn’t even bother to glance up, remarking silently that it was probably yet another flaming red cocktail dress, just like every other one she’d picked out all day. Really, there were only so many of those in the whole complex. 

Her fingers trailed down to the hem of a sparkly amethyst purple number, noting the thick shoulder straps, empire waist, and plenty of space for cleavage. She liked it, even wondered how it would look on her. In the past, she’d worn all kinds of beautiful gowns every single day, and she missed it. It would be beautiful with a nice pair of sparkly silver sandals and a simple set of earrings. A wistful smile tugged at her mouth for a moment before the reality of her own date came back.

Sasuke was no Mamoru. She tried not to be disappointed in it, but frankly after the intense, smoldering man, a teenage boy wasn’t much of a comparison. She was just glad to be getting out of the house, and more importantly have some fun. The past few days had been terribly agony, and her side felt swollen and sore where the link had been cut. It ached when she moved just right, burned when Mamoru came to mind. 

The thought brought stinging fire to the back of her eyes and she dropped the fabric to take a few steps backward. Would it matter at all? The man had just stood there while she screamed at him over and over, had taken every unfair comment with nothing but acceptance. Maybe, if she were honest with herself, she’d admit at least some of the fault was her own as well. 

Yes, as Serenity, and Usagi, and Sailor Moon, she loved him desperately. But it would be unfair for both of them to be tied like this, with Kronos pulling the strings. Even the Fates themselves were against them, and that would be agony to have to live with. She just couldn’t bear to see either of them so unhappy.

“You should try it on, Usa-chan.” Minako admonished sagely, watching her friend stare at the spicy little purple dress. It would be a good departing from frilly sleeves and ribbon-bedecked numbers Usagi was always wearing, yet soft and feminine enough to still show her personality. The model could see the undisguised longing in her dear friend’s eyes, and could not find it in her to see her so unhappy. “I’ll front the money for it, no worries.”

Usagi forced a half-smile to her face, but anyone could see it didn’t reach the eyes. Within her, the tall blond felt the familiar stirrings of Venus, a constant, loving answer to the sudden rift that had broken Usagi’s spirit. As much as she wanted to hunt Kamen’s punk-ass down and beat the living crap out of him, she refrained. It was a good thing, because Usagi would one day become a great lady, and she needed a good, humble man to stand beside her. Right now, Usagi just needed good friends, a smile on her face, and some serious time to sort things out.

“Oh, don’t worry about Usagi, I’m sure she’s got more than enough purple dresses in her closet she could use.” Rei offered helpfully after returning from the dressing room. Her sizzling charcoal hair was flung over one shoulder still, the raven locks splitting the light. “Besides, that one doesn’t look anything like what you’d wear, it’s too busty.”

It would be a departure from the norm, the priestess had a point. It made the dress that much more desirable, though. She was ready for something new, something harmless and fun. 

“Don’t worry, Usa-chan! We’ll go down to that little dress shop you like and see if they have something more your style, k?” Rei continued.

Sad blue eyes turned to view each of her friends in sequence, wondering how they might view her in return. The structured, Hollywood glamour of Minako, complete with her fancy bow sculpted of hair and red spray that instantly made her smart 60’s dress daring and flirty. The soft, almost invisible glimmer of pale blue hair trailed into the curious eyes of Ami, her face barely seen over a textbook. The glasses had slid down her nose again, with her darker natural lashes peaking over the top of their thin wire frame. Makoto had pulled her soft brown hair through the back of a racing cap, her orange and cream hoodie destroying the Amazonian physique. She stared at her tall, imposing friend. The small blond gulped, cleared her throat, and all but ripped the hanger off the rack.

“I don’t think your father would let you out of the house in that, Usa-chan,” Ami began, eyeing the piece doubtfully. The genius turned to glance at Makoto for support, but the brunette winked playfully and adjusted the bill of her cap. 

“Are you sure, Usagi-chan? That’s pretty racy…” Rei started, flailing one arm hopelessly as Minako tried to shush her.

“Can I grow up, please?” Her blue, blue eyes were begging. For a bare, honest moment, the raven-haired girl saw her friend for the first time. There were tired bags beneath her eyes, and she seemed broken from within. The muscle she’d built over the past year of training seemed to suspend her body in motion like a puppet. Her question was not about asking permission so much as making a statement. She was not a child anymore, and the tired, lonely girl before her was not enjoying her life as she used to –as she should be.

The amethyst dress swung, sparkling and feminine as Usagi slid past her friends and toward the dressing room. Rei and Ami shared a quick, nervous glance as the door slid shut. Minako grinned, readily knocking knuckles with her tomboy counterpart. 

“It’s on.” Makoto muttered, grinning helplessly.

“Hey, about that. I found this great vintage cream dress for you…”  
.  
.  
………….

The supple fabric whispered across skin, the understated sparkles igniting as the piece flowed around her. The fabric clung to her, a single glance in the mirror revealed the long, lean form of a woman. It was strange how changing just one thing made her look older. None of her clothes at home seemed to cling the way this dress did. None of them made her feel… She looked pale and tired. The deep, painful dark circles beneath her eyes were even more noticeable now. It had been days since she last slept, her mind had not allowed even a moment’s peace. The screams of dying children haunted the moments just before dreaming; enough her sweat-chilled body would tremble long after the last images had faded. 

A deep breath of air banished the bubbling thoughts enough to focus on her reflection. Despite how awful her face looked, the dress wasn’t actually that bad. Bunched fabric travelled down from her open collar, making her look taller. The bland, lacy white bra managed to look sexy peaking out from the dark fabric. It was clear she wouldn’t be able to wear anything she owned as far as that went. The flirty, uneven cut of her hemline teased her thighs just above the knees, easily making it the shortest dress she had ever tried on except her uniform. 

In the dim, flickering lights of the dressing room, it almost felt like candle light. The shadow of an arm traveled her waist, and a swift, chaste kiss touched her neck. She could almost hear the rumble of approval, though no one stood behind her. A sudden gulp caught in her throat. Endymion would have loved it, and Mamoru… a part of her wondered how she would make it in this life without him…

In the days that had passed from that night, every emotion had raged through her in hopes of finding some sense of peace. A terrible numbness swilled drunkenly within her, threatening to spill over and leave the burning nerve exposed. Too many times, the Novocain had sloshed too hard, had left her breathless and sobbing.

It was exhausting. Not just in the sense that she needed sleep, but an aching weariness that creaked from her very bones. Every cell grated for the need to lie her head down, feel a cool pillow beneath her.

No, she determined quietly to herself, she wasn’t going to think of that. She’d been through this once before. A silent declaration had already been nailed into her forehead last night that she would not think of him. Instead, the image of Sasuke was forced into her brain; small in comparison and definitely nowhere near as overwhelming. It would be a night without pressure. She focused again on the tired reflection, wondering if a cat-nap might help with the shade beneath her eyes. Her fingers followed the neckline of the dress slowly, admiring how it curved with her chest before her fingers froze.

The onyx stone was clearly visible as the dress dipped lower than her cleavage. The shard of midnight around her neck glinted like the eyes of the devil himself. The pitch black depths wallowed against the shadow of her skin, seeming to devouring the room and lights. The mirrored glass surface glinted back haughtily, as if daring the room to fight back. The silvery chain and night-dark shard were harshly outlined on her pale chest as she reached up to touch it. Part of her wanted to relinquish the piece, knowing that whatever symbol it might have been, it meant nothing now. 

No, she wasn’t going to dwell on it! Almost exasperatedly, she blew at her bangs and, for the first time, lifted the necklace off her head. It felt strange, after having it there against her chest for so long, to be without it’s comforting weight. Many times during this last year, it had served as a reminder that someone could see a little bit of good in her. Someone had cared for and loved her, thinking she had no faults; someone more incredible and frustrating and angering than she had any right to. Her finger ran along it’s smooth surface, smiling almost bitterly as the irony of her last thought struck home. She had ended it between them, had used the crystal to break his hold over her.

Days later, she still questioned the wisdom of her actions. She’d been so unbelievably angry at him. What was she supposed to think, though? She…no, she wasn’t going to think about it! Frustrated, the girl all but grunted the memories into submission, pressing her forehead hard into the cold glass. Her fingers still grasped the warm rock tightly. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bear the thought of setting it down, or even relinquishing her hold on that tiny little part of him.

Her eyes met those of her mirror image, so downcast and mellow in the dim lighting. White teeth nibbled nervously at the soft pink of her lower lip, wondering if it was even right to keep it. The girl in the mirror seemed so lost for a moment. With one quick breath, she palmed the small piece and it’s chain before stepping out to meet the firing squad.  
.  
.  
…………………………………..

“Oi! Mamoru, I’m finally here! Sorry, the final took longer than I thought…” the frustratingly bright voice broke through the drunken stupor enough to make him shift in abject misery. The bottle lay empty beside him, the other assignments scattered like fallen soldiers in his rush to reach hers. He just sobbed, crushing the palms of his hands against exhaustion-burned eyes.

“Hey man…grading under the influence? Seriously?” the intense smell of alcohol sweated from the walls, forcing Motoki to blink the sting from his eyes. The sloppy, drizzling form of his best friend literally pooled on the carpet. His hair was disheveled and his clothes looked slept in, and stained. Conspicuous piles of who knows what lay molding beside him, adding both depth and charm to the already overpowering picture.

Alarmed, the blond man threw his bag by the door and rushed to his friend’s side. The empty bottle of scotch was lifted in mute confusion, even suspicion. Seriously? How long had he been laying here? From the smell, it had to have been days. He gripped a shoulder, hauling the fallen man bodily from the ground.

“You…you…bas-turb!” Mamoru murmured, fist swinging. The heavy blow smashed into pale flesh and sent the arcade manager falling back. “Such a,” he paused to belch and decide if it was actually vomit or not, “basturd. I hate you.”

The fallen hero continued his rant in muttering, unintelligible words that seemed to melt into hiccups. A curious hand rose to assess the damage to his pale chin, but thankfully Mamoru was too drunk to be able to land anything too severe. The blond shook his head once to free the stupor, and then gripped each arm to drag the limp body to the bathroom.

An hour later, the tall sloshing form slumped back to the living room, leaning heavily against the wall as he walked. It had given Motoki time for his hangover concoction to percolate, but not quite effervesce. It had also given plenty of time for worry. His dark, imposing friend was not one to haul off and get this smashed over finals.

At least his clothes were clean. The hair needed some work, but it wasn’t like they were going anywhere. If he was lucky, maybe they’d actually get some grading done like they’d planned. Of course, that would be after some sort of explanation, maybe some organization, and coffee. The other flopped into the sofa like a burlap sack and sank back among the cushions. 

“You bastard.” The dark man’s face hadn’t moved an inch. Violent bags draw his eyes downward, the sunken flesh of his face was enough to make him look drawn, withered, and tired. His eyes were red from crying, and the slump of his shoulders may as well have been limp noodles for all intents and purposes. The blond sat back in mock astonishment

“What happened?” he demanded.

“You know what!” 

Confused, still mildly alarmed, the other slid back in his seat, steepling his fingers carefully. It was time. Maybe it was past time, from the look of things. The sloshing gulps and hiccups began anew. Large European eyes scanned the desolate remains around him. The newly cleaned floor has been littered with white rose petals and soggy paper. Chunks of torn textbook littered the hallway leading toward the bedroom, and the bowels of the kitchen sink had all been loosed. 

“How could you?” The choked words broke free through the tears. Never, in all the years that Motoki had known him, had the stoic expressed more than mild irritation until Usagi came into the picture. He’d always known his little sister had a way of pulling people out of their shells, but this was on another level. With the considerable damage in mind, he returned his gaze back to the pitiful, hiccupping man across the table. 

“Um, the shower thing? Well,” the blond started, feeling a little snide despite himself.

“No, you sick, twisted jask-ass! How could you keep this from me!?” his trembling hands shoved the mess aside, eyes searching frantically for her drawing. The paper was pulled out with all the tenderness he could muster before it was thrust into Motoki’s face. “This! This right here! How could you!?”

“We…ll… Usagi’s pretty good, isn’t she? I keep telling her she shou…” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Mamoru exploded, shoving the coffee mug away. “She’s Sailor Moon, and you knew the whole damn time and wouldn’t say one damn thing to me!” he choked, feeling the hot tears falling from his eyes again. 

“I could have had her. I could have had her, Motoki-kun!” 

Possessive, loving, perhaps a bit soaked in scotch, but the words rang true. The subtle weight bearing down on his chest lifted in triumph for his friend, only to be crushed again by confusion. The dark savior knew exactly who she was, and now was the time to be giving up? He blanched at the thought, all but leaping out of his chair in sudden opposition.

Mamoru glared at the horrified face of his friend, irritated it had ever come to this. His flicked a hand upward as if the situation were too obvious to be put into words. What was he supposed to do, run to her house like some stupid romance movie and beg for her on hands and knees? The woman had actually sliced a chunk of her own soul free just to get away from him! Not just that, but here, in this very apartment, something final had passed between them. Even the rose had begun to wilt then, even the world had begun to cave in after that night.

If only he could go back to that moment, staring at her form huddled into herself in his hallway. He had been so close, if only he’d looked harder at those darkened, pained eyes. If only she had let that somber wall drop long enough to see his warrior shine through. But it was gone, now, and that moment when he knew someone would claim her, he had all but given her up to do it. 

Silence spread between them, thick and heavy laden. The kinder, wiser man allowed it to simmer momentarily as he poured a generous amount of dark brew into a mug. It would take a long time for his friend to put the pieces back together, but surely he had to know that Usagi would probably, eventually, forgive him. It was Usagi; and she shouldn’t. That’s exactly why she would.

“So you can’t now?” 

“She left me.” Mamoru could barely get the words free. Desperately, he just wanted them never to be spoken by anyone. Even days later, he could see glimmers of bronze leaking from his side. It was a none-too-subtle reminder of how permanent her answer had been the other night. 

“Wait, Moon did? How does one superhero leave another? Its not like you guys were official or living together or anything.”

The dark man sighed, grudgingly wiping the sodden mess of his face. Their history was too long, too complex. But maybe it would do some good to get it all out, tell it all from the beginning and let every gaping wound bleed freely. At least that way if he had to kill Motoki, the stupid man would understand why he had to die.  
.  
.  
…………..

“Woah! Usagi-chan! Shut the front door, back up the bus, and park it by the bar! That is smoking hot!” Minako whistled through blood red lips, nudging Ami with a conspiratorial elbow. The mouse squeaked, but nodded furiously. Even Rei, who had crossed her sassy arms across her chest and jut a hip out in indifference was staring with wide, smoldering eyes.

“Usa-chan, that’s really…really gorgeous.”

“Sasuke’s gunna shit himself.” Makoto shoved both hands in her pockets, kicking at the ground as she spoke. Even Ami had to stifle her laugh behind a petite hand as she clutched her closed book to her chest. 

“It’s weird wearing something Mom didn’t make.” The downcast blond commented, turning toward the mirror. The lights were brighter here, made the shadows flee from her face. That same strength she’d felt against Kunzite returned with the vision of her guard around her. The dress was beautiful, but it was so secondary to having them all back again –the last of her life from before.

For a sweet moment, she remembered the loving press of her mother’s arms around her shoulders, a soft kiss at her birthmark. The sadness at losing her would never leave. Yet she stood there, so grateful for the sacrifice that great Queen had made for her, for a chance to live again. A chance to love again.

And she’d take it.

“Sweet! Party at my place! Mako-chan, grab the dip! Ladies, we have a dance to crash!”

“Uh, Minako-chan, it’s a school dance…” the tall brunette looked doubtful. 

“Shut it! Like they’re gunna turn away an international model and her posse, am I right! Let’s go! Usagi, if that dress isn’t in my hand in 2 minutes, I’mma rip it off your hot body!”

“Uh…” the short girl blushed straight to her toes

“English.” Rei whispered, her face both alarmed and amused.

Ami nodded, but even she was grinning ear to ear.  
.  
.  
………..

“So, you’re telling me that for revenge the Fates made Usagi dress like a child, and turned you into the lamest super hero ever?” Motoki rubbed at his face tiredly, still trying to sort through the strange, and probably made up story he’d just been told. Sure, both of his friends happened to be actual superheroes, but that load of crock could not be real in the slightest. It was bad enough to be lied to from the beginning, but now this? “And…what now?”

“That’s it. She doesn’t want me.” Mamoru grumbled, obviously giving in to his current despair.

The heavy crack of knuckle on bone boomed in the awkward silence that followed. The hefty blow knocked the brooding young man completely off his feet and into the newly cleaned carpet. His shocked face stared from his position on the ground while Motoki seethed.

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know?! You’re telling me that this…earth prince, this super hero, is just going to sit around moping while his girl is out with some kid? Did you even bother to ask her what she wanted!” Mamoru had never been so pathetic! Seriously, the guy honestly believed they were star crossed lovers from another life, and he was just going to sit back and take that kind of nonsense? Maybe the hit had been out of line, but frankly he’d taken a blow already tonight, and to know that his friend was actually giving up was just too much to take.

The news rocked the ground from beneath his still shaking hands. The stuttering, breaking heart in his chest heaved with the sudden onslaught of adrenaline, frustration, and finally pure hatred. The burning man barely felt the earth’s subtle tremble beneath his sweating palms, barely registered the answering power building against the oncoming storm.

“She’s where?” he ground out, barely able to contain himself.

“You heard me right, you moron! What the hell are you going to do about it?”

The waxing fury burned hot enough to freeze every inch of his skin in a shudder that purged the air from his lungs. The gentle flickering of the entryway light crackled against Motoki’s eyes in a terrifying display that swept all doubts from his mind. There was no way the silken figure rising from the ground as if it were a coffin was anyone other than a supernatural prince of darkness. The shadows of the room billowed strangely around the solemn figure, sucked at the meager light, and stole the strength from the suddenly terrified man’s knees. 

How dare she. How dare she! He had worked his ass off trying to please her, only to get chopped off, slung out to sea, and she was right back in the damn fishing chair the second he was gone. How dare she look back over everything they had ever been through and decide that it wasn’t worth fighting for? How dare she make that decision for the both of them without even consulting him! For a girl so set on his selfish ways, she couldn’t even see the irony of her own! Worse yet was the thought that she could possibly choose anyone over him –a prince, a hero, her damn soul mate. As if any other man would even come close to what they had together. The idea of anyone else’s hands on her, they’re breath on her, staring at her…

His fists clenched abominably tight, their strain echoed through every muscle, sinew, and bone of his body.

Motoki fought a violent shiver helplessly as the weak creaking of the building began to yawn through the air. The cold, clawing fingers of blackened fury were slithering visibly through the air around them like coils of smoke laced in menace. For a bare moment, Mamoru was no longer the dark, brooding orphan set to conquer the world. He was, in a very strange and horrifying way, more than human, more than supernatural. The inky black depths of his eyes screeched far above the level of sound straight into the mortal man’s skull, dropping him instantly to the carpet.

“Like hell.” The deep, booming voice echoed through more than the apartment. The hollow sound shimmered in the air, as if the room no longer existed, and continued on into eternity. It was with a traumatized sort of detachment from reality that he watched the man he could have sworn was his best friend a few minutes ago swoop out of the apartment with all the preternatural grace of a specter in the fog. Wildly, he almost imagined the keys levitating off the front table and into an outstretched hand before the door swung shut by the wake of his passing.

Several minutes after the frightening figure had left, the plain, resoundingly normal arcade manager was still straining to catch his breath. The sweaty cold palms of his hands pressed shaky weight into his eyes. It was like scrubbing a stain in the retina, like trying to remove etching with soap. All there was to be seen, all that could be seen, was the soulless black hole of not-Mamoru’s homicidal eyes, and all the impenetrable fear it inspired. Whoever this prince had been, it was not someone Motoki would like to meet.

In fact, the overwhelming fear proved to be the only source from which he could excuse himself from running after. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that Mamoru hadn’t said anything. It wasn’t Usagi’s fault, either. More than anything, he wanted to see those two work it out, but after this…

“Be the hero, Mamoru-kun. Please.”

The whisper broke his mouth unbidden, and was given without hope.  
.  
.  
………………..

The heavy swing music pounded the walls with drums and trumpet, matched perfectly with a swoony voice straight from the big band era. The ballroom was dimly lit, spotted with small tablets along the sides. Glittering taffeta dripped elegantly from the ceiling. The flashing, glittering steps of dancers twinkled from every inch of the room, laughter barely heard over the cacophony of music blaring from the speakers. It was up tempo and bright, two things Mamoru did not normally approve of.

A bright blast of trumpet signaled a 20’s era jive, featuring some sort of modern beat and rap. The confusing mixture only heightened the other worldly mix of multicolored couples rocking across the floor. Complicated, twisting movements flared across the floor; more so than any dance he’d ever heard of. Even a few years ago, his classmates had thrown on a suite jacket over jeans and a t-shirt. Where these guys had gotten neon orange and purple suites was disturbing.   
He shook his head, trying to see past the kaleidoscope of spinning skirts deeper into the crowd. The lights were low, and it made searching difficult. Not far away, he saw the tall brunette that followed Usagi around chatting up a football player. The sight boggled his mind a little –she’d always struck him as possibly batting for the other team. The boy looked just as animated, and even led her out on the floor a minute later. He glanced around again, watching the fairly advanced moves of the students and wondering how many of them took lessons. 

This was too distracting. He paused, reaching for the tug that would bring him to her side. There was no answer, and the dull ache began anew in his ribs. Agonized hands gripped at his chest, a chill hiss broke from his lips. More torturous was the idea that he could have reached through their link months ago; it had never failed to bring him directly to her. The urge to slam his head against a nearby wall was more than temptation. Days ago, it still would have worked brilliant magic against his conundrum. Too late now; he would have to resort to older tactics.

There. The forbidden gold of her hair flashed in the light from the hallway. She was back several yards into the room, spinning and giggling. He didn’t even have to be close enough to know that. The dark color of her dress melted in with the low-lit background, and made it impossible to see till her partner had spun her closer to the stage. His fleshy hand closed at her tiny, cinched waist as the song slowed and mellowed. The sight made his jaw tighten irritably. 

He forced a few breaths in and out, trying desperately to calm the murder burning through his blood at the sight. It gave him time to truly appreciate the beauty hidden within the child he’d once known. Clumsy feet tripped through each step as if a single fault from collapse, yet she laughed and continued trying despite her obvious lack of knowledge. It reminded him sharply of watching her dance in the rain at the courthouse so long ago. 

He had to wipe the stupid smile from his face, feeling the fear slink slowly from his joints. Moon, Serenity, and Usagi; it all came from the same mouth, the same short little spitfire. The fates could make it as difficult as they wanted, but in the end she was still the same woman he had known for millennia, had loved. He could do this, for the both of them. 

He moved quickly, unaware that the couples all but leapt out of his way. The smug grin dominating her date’s pathetically young face had his fingers flexing to break something. Usagi, the knockout she’d been in uniform, was breathtaking in dark purple, and he was not the only one to notice. 

Breathe. Just breathe, he forced the thought through the rage, and reached up to smooth his hair back before stalking across the room toward the unsuspecting couple. They would just talk. They would just…scream and yell at each other till security came. Then he’d cheerfully beat the snot out of security if they touched her. Right.

The two were laughing and dancing, taking no notice of the oncoming battle. It was a short walk; the couples around him tended to jump out of the way rather than be plowed down in his wake. Just beneath the skin, he could feel the burn of Endymion rising up. The urge to shift just enough, just so she could see him, was almost overwhelming. He stopped himself. It wasn’t about the past. It wasn’t about bad decisions. 

“Tsukino Usagi, you are a sight for sore eyes.” He commented, deep voice booming over the top of loudspeakers. She stopped mid-spin, her hair quickly tangling in her date’s jacket buttons. He could almost hear the visible groan as she rolled her eyes and nonchalantly pulled herself away, golden strands trailing behind. 

“Well, I guess that’s better than being the eyesore I normally am.” Her arms immediately wrapped across her chest, as if she needed to defend herself from him. He zeroed in on the action, wanting nothing more than to gather her up and assure her he was not here to hurt her. 

“H-hello Chiba-sensei…” The boy cleared his throat, obviously trying to get some attention. He flicked an irritated glance at the short, blue-bedecked monstrosity. There was no hiding the disgust as he turned back to Usagi.

“Stop. It’s not like that and you know it.”

“What exactly is it like, Mamoru?” Usagi queried with disgust, immediately moving closer to her date as if to protect him too. Mamoru all but growled at the sight, felt his hackles rising and Endymion step that much closer. He drew in a labored breath, focused his thoughts. He was just here to ask a few questions. He was just here to at least try the possibility. He was not here to commit murder, or to force her into making sense.

“We need to talk.” The statement was given tensely, as the chaperones were making their way through the crowd to stop the oncoming fight. With Endymion so close to the surface, it was a dangerous situation.

“We really don’t. I’m sure there’s a dumb bimbo along the wall if you look hard enough.” She spat, turning her back to him. It was useless, though, Sasuke was all but shrinking away from her. She groaned, blowing at her bangs in frustration. Now he was scaring her date off too?

“How sweet.” He murmured, a little hurt at the comment. Those days were long gone, and she was well aware of the fact. 

“Did you just come here to insult me?” she glistened as she spun, even her skin beginning to take on the light around them. He eyed the crowd, hoping it still looked normal enough to pass off as rage. Her date had melted into the crowd, which by now was ringed around them in interest. He took another breath, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and turned both eyes to her again.

“Of course not, I came to talk.”

This was ridiculous to try here and now. They’d always fought, even as their counterparts. Now was like trying to hold a tiger by the leash in front of a group of gazelles, all the while hoping for the best. They needed to get away from here, where they could hash it out without prying eyes. Where they could burst into a raging goddess and…whatever he was supposed to be.

“Silly me, I thought those amounted to the same thing.” She came forward, clacking her heels on the floor. The action was so familiar at this point that it almost hurt not to notice it.

“Is there a problem here?” An older gentleman asked, adjusting his square rimmed glasses as he came to a halt between them. The crowd dispersed like children on the school grounds, leaving the two steaming overtop of the sentinel. 

“I’m sure Mr. Chiba was just leaving. He needs to make friends his own age.”

“Charming. And here I was hoping for an adult conversation.” He hissed. The chaperone had nothing to do with this, and frankly was a great idea given the state of things. Right now, however, was not the most convenient time to be bullied by one. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to take this outside. You’re disturbing the others.” The gaunt man continued, ushering them with his hands. At least that was a good idea. It was too loud in here, and he could feel the remaining hangover pounding at the back of his skull though the alcohol still buzzed through him. It was healing quickly, another effect of his power no doubt.

Usagi slid back toward the crowd, allowing the teacher’s hands to push Mamoru toward the door. The dark man bit back a snarl, easily shoving the other man aside amidst cries of distress. 

“Nice try, but I’m really not leaving.” He ducked his head, staring her down eye to eye. Furious blue met with barely retained midnight, and a firm hand gripped his shoulder. 

The coal in his blood lit red hot at the action, spun the incredulous, demanding stare into the eyes of a shy middle aged man, tired and filled with obligation. Endymion burned through the gaze, down into the sniveling man’s soul like the scythe of death, and promised agony should the fool attempt such an action again.

Without another word, the figure slunk off into the crowd as if the demons of hell were on his tail. Within moments, the sound of the door slamming shut was an added thump to the steady rhythm of the music. 

“Nice, just bag on the science teacher like everyone else.” The blond commented, bringing about that scathing sarcasm. 

Their meetings made so much more sense now, that feeling of burning from the inside he had always attributed to anger or resentment, when really it was attraction. It had nothing to do with superficial things, as he had been so used to when they met. Her brain simply fired in response, and he could do nothing but feel that heat lick at him from the inside out. They would fight like cats and dogs, but if nothing else the makeup sex would be mind blowing.

“I just want to know one thing; then you can do whatever you like.” He couldn’t keep the sting from his voice, no matter how much time he took too respond. Before, there had been a level of intensity between them that left him with a tension headache. Moon had stood up to him so many times, but it had been arousing. Had he been misinterpreting those feelings for Usagi too? When was the point when his soul had recognized her, had screamed through every fiber of him whenever she was mentioned? Had he been in love with her from the beginning; and in not understanding the feeling filed it under irritation?

“I really can’t, because my date has no desire to die!” She screamed, no longer caring that the crowd was staring, that the music had become a din in the background. He was doing it again, eclipsing everything around them with his presence, forcing her to pay attention to only him. If she could throw even one inch of that back in his face, break that cold exterior for a split second, it would be worth it.

“Then why the hell is he with you!” He quipped, stepping forward so they were toe-to-toe. Her perfume, that same musk she’s always worn, made his insides jelly. The woman even smelled like her counterpart. Hadn’t he been in close quarters with her a few times before? Why didn’t his idiot brain put even that together?

“You are such a jerk!” She screamed, face reddening with the effort. Why did he have to point out the obvious so blatantly? It was like his answers took her futile life and rubbed her nose in it. She hadn’t gotten that far yet; the future was still a mess of emotions and fears, and Beryl. She just wanted him to go away, take that much of the knot from the mass before her face and disappear.

“And I’ll stop acting like one when you stop acting like you did at 13!” She flinched back a few steps, as if it had been a physical slap. He could see the growing question, could see how that comment might ruin any chance of talking through it. Before he could stop himself, though, the next thought rushed through clenched teeth. “Though I see you’re finally getting comfortable showing off that body of yours. About damn time!”

Her jaw dropped. Did he just…compliment her? And why had it sounded like an insult? Since when did he compliment anyone! And now, no less, when she was on a date with someone else! It didn’t take a full scan of the room to realize the less familiar face of Sasuke was nowhere to be seen. She scoffed, kicking at the ground with her shoe. It was just her luck. She’d just wanted to dance and forget all about him for 5 minutes, and of course she picks the one guy without a bone in his body.

“Mamoru-san, please go away. You have no right to be here.” Her tired eyes screamed louder than words. She meant he had no right to her. The thought caused muscle in his jaw to jump.

“You’re probably right, but I’m not leaving till we’ve had some conversation, Usagi-chan.”

“Just who do you think you are?!” She screamed, reaching out to shove angrily at his chest. Just as quickly, he trapped both hands before she could remove them and stepped closer. He must have done it a million times with her counterpart, and the proximity was just as comfortable as if she’d been in uniform. 

“You know who I am. And I know who you are.” I know you, came his undertone in her head. The lines of his face softened a fraction as he took a deep breath. She felt dizzy and unreal, the thump of music made the moment heady. “How was I supposed to know you were hiding behind yourself? I spent a year looking for my warrior, not for the little girl you were when this all started. I was looking for a woman who has no problem taking care of business, and all I saw was the cutsie kid throwing a tizzy fit.”

She froze. Had she really done that? It was the most ridiculous accusation she’d ever heard! She was just Usagi, no matter what she was wearing! What kind of idiot would not see that? Heck, she was pretty sure that’s how Kunzite had found her on the street! 

“Have your attention yet, my dear? Good. Because I’m here to tell you that if you plan on keeping up this crazy masquerade, acting like you’re a child to somehow get away from the fact that we are who we are; well, I’m not going to sit around here and put up with it.” 

She gulped, putting together his meaning finally. The battlefield was no place for childish antics, as she had learned early on. But when was the last time she’d done something like that? The past several months had been spent training with the Senshi. She’d been working her butt off and he didn’t even have the decency to give her credit for it! 

“But,” he continued as she looked away, his voice very low and determined, “You better know that the very second you decide it’s ok to be who you really are, no force on this earth will keep me from you.”

Chills broke her skin to gooseflesh. That tone, the one he’d used a thousand years ago, burned like the sun. She gasped, feeling the heat of it suckle at her skin, all warmth and invitation. She was dreaming. This was the strangest, most maddening thing that could have possibly happened, and she was definitely dreaming. The blazing weight of his hand left hers, and wrapped around her waist as if he had every right to. 

“Mamoru-san…” she fumed, glancing around for her date in outrage and shame. She hoped, beyond all hope that the music had drowned out that last comment. “I’m a lot more than you give me credit for, and that includes the kiddie stuff.” 

He thought he could just waltz in here like the Devil himself, stake his claim, and drag her down to Hell as if she had no say. Stupid man. She struggled against him, uncomfortable and ashamed at the intimacy. The shocked eyes of her classmates had been staring all night, and now were latched in every pair to the two arch foes in blind fascination.

“Get away from me already! How many times do I have to say it!” With a great shove, she pried herself free and turned to run. The catch at her arm stopped her with a sudden jerk and the world twisted at the most impossible angle. 

Mamoru hefted the girl cleanly over one shoulder, no longer caring what it looked like. Damn it, she was the one being difficult and he had no interest in talking over everything out here in the middle of school children. Besides, the lights in her skin were growing more and more intense. They needed a quiet space, and she didn’t seem as aware of the fact. The shocked moment of silence before the storm felt ominous, but he’d be damned if they weren’t going to at least pretend to have this conversation.

“Chiba Mamoru! Don’t you dare! Put me down right now!” she screamed, kicking her silver heels helplessly in the air and beating against his back. He ignored her demands and simply continued out toward the main lobby with a confident stride –as if this were an everyday occurrence to him –as if he had every right to!

“Um, Miss, do you need help?” a chaperone asked politely from somewhere above her dangling head. She felt Mamoru stiffen, could feel the waves of menace melting off his tall, well muscled frame. The cry for help died on her lips as she realized that he very well would kill her would-be savior (and her for that matter). It was for that fact alone, and not her love for the stupid, pigheaded man, that kept her from screaming bloody murder.

“No.” she grumbled angrily, crossing her arms against his back. She stiffened when his rough voice bubbled up in his chest and sent a tremor through her legs.

“Lover’s spat.” Quipped Mamoru smugly and reached up to pat her butt affectionately. The blond sputtered, dangerously close to exploding -at his words, the love tap, and what it was doing to her insides. The man looked at them dubiously for a moment before nodding and returning to his post. Mamoru grunted in approval and turned once more toward the door, obviously done with the place. All the while, the onyx pendant dangled in the air not a foot from her eyes, as if mocking her with it’s presence. She quickly squashed the idea that somehow not removing said article had summoned him from the abyss. It was a ridiculous thought.

“I hate you.” She muttered to no one in particular, though her eyes were trained to the silver and black pendant hanging from her throat.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

He could feel the anxiety simmering beneath the skin like the sucking depths of despair. The rampant, raging feeling had been settled there in his chest for far too long. He had worked with every ounce of strength he could muster to make things better, to shift that burning ember from his soul. He had done much wrong in his two lifetimes; he had also done much right.

The white chalk dust frosted his fingertips like an ever present winter, a place he’d banished himself to all week. Beneath the churning thoughts, the carefully reworked rubble of his life, there had been hope. He dusted the specks free, quickly wiping at faded jeans as if he could remove the flakes from his being.

It was much too late for that. Though the specks currently residing on his bent knees originated from the new drywall of the arcade, the symbolism was just too much to bear. It would take more than money, more than simple trappings to pick up the shattered pieces of his life, and make things as they should be. It would take so much more than he could currently give.

The battle just before Serenity’s appearance had nearly demolished that stupid, loved old building. Motoki had been frantically trying to get estimates ever since, but the contractors were either booked solid or no longer in business. No wonder the mall hadn’t been rebuilt. No wonder the city was practically in ruins. He’d been too obsessed to notice, too completely driven to go back and check on his friend, even though…

What? How long had it been really? That night seemed ages in the past, but it had only been a week or two. Eventful, definitely, but not long enough to get things back to normal. At first sight, the place was completely ruined. A curious hand sought the ache in his chest at the thought. There were only so many familiar places in town and the Crown had been a constant in his life until that moment.

Construction workers were in high demand and it would take months without an income to secure one. Rather than be destroyed by the idea, Mamoru had instantly pulled out his wallet. Without the distractions of class, it would take no time to patch the place up. Mr. Furuhata came, along with two more sons and a few others. Between the lot of them, the place would be back to normal in a week or so, he was sure. 

Tired, dark blue eyes graced the top of a coffee table littered in paper. His grades had come in, something he’d been dreading for days now. If it hadn’t been for a simple, well-meant phone call only yesterday, he’d probably be tearing his hair out in frustration. So lucky; it seemed someone above had been watching his back through the tempest. Someone, he was sure, who had a personal stake in his future.

The day after his and Usagi’s first less-than-impressive date, he’d received a phone call from a worried professor. With so many excellent semesters under his belt, it had come as quite a shock to see him skip two, yes two, finals even after taking on an extra credit teaching class to raise his grade. The concern of the usually detached voice on the other end of the phone had…touched him.

The feeling was still uncomfortable and strange. Perhaps even worse to his logical brain, the conversation had lead deeper than he really wanted it to go and revealed a hint of what he’d really been up to for the past four months. Hours spent in an orphanage, fighting for the friendship of a child he was sure hated him, days spent trying to organize his life and thoughts long enough to put two things together. Even though he couldn’t bear to speak of his golden angel, the other man had somehow known. It was like her touch could be sensed through the floundering explanation, the tense exhaustion that permeated everything all at once.

It had been enough. The quiet voice on the phone had soothed his worries, promised him excellent marks despite missing his test, and quietly hung up.

The weight still bore at his chest: gratitude, resentment, and perhaps a little bit of hope. It didn’t fix everything; he would still need to retake the other course before graduation, but that was much more doable than trying to juggle two extra classes next semester. Perhaps if he was lucky again, a summer session would open up and have him back on track for the winter.

Luck. He was sure there was another word for it now, one that started with F.

It didn’t matter if they even existed anymore. Those cackling, hunched old wenches had twisted their fingers deep into his life, had given him the pretense of everything a man could want. He groaned, casting angry eyes around the beautiful, empty apartment. So much of his time had been spent chasing the things that would destroy him in the end. The women, the money, the fame…it was a chilling lesson in psychology; one he would not soon forget.  
There were no reservations about that blood test, the convenient talent scout, or the perfectly timed sponsor willing to help him into college. No, luck had nothing to do with it.

It was amazing to him, how even after all this time, the only goal they could see was separation. It was as if their affronted past could somehow override the necessity of the present –as if they could dare reach that all-seeing eye straight into a future they couldn’t control and somehow still write the outcome. A sneer lifted the corner of his mouth as he thought of it.

The Fates could cry all they wished. They had failed.  
Tsukino Usagi was, for all outward appearances, quite a normal girl. A little backward when it came to the ways of the world, and probably hopeless for life with technology, but that would probably change once he had a chance to give her his gift. Her parents apparently disliked the use of cell phones, but he’d bought her one anyway. He wasn’t really looking forward to being on their favorites list anytime soon and it would take her a while to figure out how to use it.

The delightful blond had been helping at the arcade as well, though she seemed much better at fidgeting uneasily than really doing any help. She was too clumsy to hand out drinks, completely useless with a tape measure, and hilariously incapable of using a hammer. Still, the ray of light seemed more than happy to sit around and try to amuse everyone. 

It was in those times, even an hour ago, when he would watch her. The ridiculous home-made clothing reeked of a mother swaddling her baby, but the woman beneath was beginning to shine through. With that spicy sense of humor and ridiculous laugh, he’d found himself smiling at the banter, enjoying the stupid puns. He loved how expressive her face was, how ridiculous her features could twist and dance as she told a story or reacted to something said. 

It had been there all along. He retraced over every fight they’d had, remembered how fiery and passionate she had always been, how her insults had backhanded his ego more times than he’d care admit. He’d teased her about her grades, while silently cursing her clever mind; loved her comebacks, the way she was always invading his space as if their arguments were more physical than mental. He’d enjoyed her right from the start, even if he’d only seen the child. 

Even her friends, who were constantly glued to her side, seemed willing to learn more about him. It was a nice change of pace. Last time he’d seen them all together, he was pretty sure the guardians had been howling for his head on a pike. Such were the strange twists of life. It was difficult to find common ground with most of the giggling hoard. Amy, the shy techie, seemed more his pace than the rest. For the sake of hovering heaven blue eyes and a nervous smile from his goddess, he found himself commenting if only a little bit. He didn’t know these girls, except for a much abashed Rei, and it would take some time before they could talk freely.

Motoki had been all shock and outrage when he’d walked in on a lively conversation and found his best friend smiling along. A wry laugh rumbled free from Mamoru’s chest at the memory. It would have been quite strange had their roles been reversed. He’d never been one for group conversations unless it was a debate, and updating the red Formica countertops hardly qualified.

His cheek still ached a little from that punch the other night. He brushed dust covered fingers across his face, knowing his friend sported a matching bruise along the jaw. They’d both had points worth noting, and thankfully it had been left at that. Motoki never should have kept the information from him. He never should have judged Usagi so harshly, or given in to the despair that had ruled his existence for so long.

As much as he would love to blame the Fates for that, it would have been a lie. True, if he’d had a real family and real friends to call his own, it never would have happened. In the end, it was his decision, one that he’d sold himself to so deeply that even the thought of both nemesis and warrior together had seemed impossible. Looking back, he could see how silly the idea was.

The three women were quickly melding into one increasingly complex creature. Love was such a foreign concept to him and yet there it was, staring right through him framed in golden lashes. The date had proven nothing. He hadn’t learned a single thing about her and the enigma wriggled in the back of his mind like a parasite. All it had proven was the initial attraction; and perhaps his ability to get close to her if he so desired. Which he did.

It simply wasn’t enough. If nothing else, the last few days working on the arcade had been spent puzzling over that beautiful mind as if it were some sort of brain teaser he couldn’t leave alone. They didn’t seem to speak much in public, yet she was always watching him. At first, especially the day after, she’d been curious about the surprise ending he’d left her with. Even he’d been shocked at such a bold move after everything that had happened.

Then the curiosity had shifted, grown dark and suspicious. Even as he smiled with the laughter of her friends, he could see she was writhing in her seat. He could see how that tension was getting to her. Usagi did not do well with those kinds of emotions. She was not equipped to handle the uncertainty. When her friends had left this afternoon, allowing their leader to trail behind, he had reached for her.

The spark still tingled in his fingers from her arm. There were no words passed between them, frankly he felt his actions spoke louder than all that. He promised he would be by soon, had kissed her hand with all the tenderness and love that he felt for her. Even as the true meaning of that word had evaded him, he knew it would be her or nothing.

Love. It had been a question in his mind for years now. Something he was sure existed and yet had never been able to pin down and define. Why did he love her so much? How was it possible for someone like him to even know what it meant? How could he hope to return the sweet forgiveness, that same openness when he could barely handle a conversation that wasn’t removed and polite? How could he begin to say why it was he desired so much to be with her?

The answer had been so simple. It had been the most breathtakingly beautiful moment he’d ever seen in his life today. A mother, harassed and exhausted, had come in off the street for a quick drink of water. Behind her, a young boy no more than four had trailed along, fat tears running a marathon down his face. Usagi, bless her beautiful, otherworldly soul, had instantly reacted.

It began with the funny faces and quickly launched into a comic tongue war that left the screaming child giggling hysterically. The sound of that musical laughter had burrowed into his soul like a living beast, roared in the back of his mind and all but trampled any other thought that might have surfaced. Flashbacks of Moon checking the little children with her long flowing hair in the grass, how he’d always attributed her love of children to some deeper meaning. To her, it was just normal, but to him it had been beyond words, beyond description.

And he had known, oh gods, how he’d suddenly seen exactly why he’d loved her so much. Deep beneath the skin, he still could feel the pathetic heartbreak of a sterile hospital bed, the dingy torture of a room –of a life- without it. He had known nothing, not even his real name until years after the event. Let alone the strange, faceless photograph he had of who would have been his parents in this life. Even the picture had seemed worthless. There was no recollection of the people they were, or why they had ever gotten in the car to begin with. It was only the emptiness, the loneliness, and the longing. In his heart and soul, that broken child begged for the soothing sweetness that was her core. Nothing could erase the past he’d trudged through, nothing could make those memories a fantasy. 

For all the weird explanations, the extrapolations that could be used to describe that undeniable pull toward her, it came down to this. It was not the lusty love at first sight as it had been with Endymion, nor was it the instantaneous dislike of a girl who seemed incapable of doing anything worthwhile. It was simply one soul seeing another for all that it was, and resolutely clicking into place. It was simply logical, mathematical sense. The Fates may have made him fatherless for eternity, but they had also cemented his love for her for all that time, with or without any other factor.

Perhaps Motoki had said it best in that moment. On seeing what Mamoru could not cover in his face, the wise manager had placed a knowing hand on his shoulder. He’d turned, so surprised, so confused at the sudden touch. They were guys; you didn’t just invade personal space like that. And yet, that tender knowledge had made that moment so heartbreaking, he just didn’t seem to care.

“You’re beginning to understand,” he’d said. Simple as that. As if his whole world hadn’t been shaken, shifted, and changed in that moment. As if suddenly he was on equal ground only to find that everyone else had always assumed he’d been there with them. Love was more than desire, longing, or need. That earth-shattering, life-changing force boiled down to this: healing, soft, grateful, and sweet. Eternal.

He knew. That knowledge gave him power- gave him back the drive he had been using all this time to find her that had somehow been lost in translation. Even without the golden link grafted into his soul like a chain, free from a Titan’s curse that would enslave him forever, he –Chiba Mamoru- loved Usagi desperately and passionately. As if these things had never existed, as if she were not some fallen goddess; he just loved the sweet, compassionate woman she was.

A smile lit his face. The frosted fingers rubbed at his stubble in thought. His Odango would change everything in his life, throw back the curtains and rip them from the wall. And he would hurt and ache and love every second of her chaos and happiness. He would learn to laugh till his sides ached, and use stupid pet names, and eventually he would make that deal as permanent as physically possible. It was a strange flash of the future, a call of destiny more than a fancy. She would ruin his perfect world and he would die to protect her while she did it.

The thought brought an unexpected pang at his rib. He sought the twinge with his fingers, spreading the specks of dust across the already clouded old t-shirt. It still ached sometimes, even days after the incident. He wondered faintly if it always would. She had severed it with decisive finality and he still didn’t know quite why. It had been their only means of communication in this life. It had pulled him to her like a magnet when she was in danger, had forced him into harms path for no other reason than to save her. Not the other Senshi. Her.

Without that tug at his side, how could he possibly protect her? How could he possibly know she was in danger without the rush, the fleeting touch of her psyche in his mind? How would he know, he wondered, when he was needed? More importantly, how would he know if he was needed? 

The young man stood, his movements quick and agitated in the dying sunlight as he paced. The idea that his goddess simply did not need him anymore was too terrifying to consider. But it had been months since that was the case, since Christmas. He could pull the pristine memories from the vault of his mind like instant replay, knowing even as he watched her flip and dive and slash her way through the ranks, that she was never meant to be a fighter. 

It didn’t change the fact that she was proving to be a pretty damn good one.

She was so strong now. With so much behind her, and so much left ahead, he had no qualms with the idea of his warrior taking on the world. The thought lanced his soul with guilt. Serenity herself would never have made it as a Senshi; she had no capacity for it. The sweet, ethereal goddess had been fragile in many ways, everything he had craved to protect in a harsh world. She was the embodiment of everything he felt he had lost in growing up as a planet’s future ruler. She was everything he had ached to be and yet simply could not.

Though, in retrospect, it had changed her too. The faltering, awkward teen had felt the brush of deep depression, had taken fate into her own tiny hands and molded it to her pleasure. Her past had been in no way apparent as she did so; that invincible half of her that had been hidden within the slumbering Titan finally brought to light. She had taken so much of herself and shifted that reality, chosen the facets to augment and allowed others to fade into the background. Heck, she’d even screamed in the face of fate by severing their bond, had challenged the course of their lives together.

His eyes settled on the grades from last semester, wondering what kind of future that could be. They weren’t tied together, and for all their future existences through the corridor of time, he was positive the Fates would tangle their wretched hands back into their lives. Setsuna had made it perfectly clear he would be an orphan forever, something that pained him to understand completely. Yet how could he possibly ask her to go through this hell every single time they were reborn? How could she possibly choose him without the security of their bond? How would she know she was meant to be his?

The palpable fear threatened to crush the life from his chest. Even one life without her would be torture. Even the last two and a half years without her had nearly killed him –had changed him. Would she still choose him? Was her draw to him as powerful as he now knew his to be? How would he know? She didn’t need him, she’d made that perfectly clear. And without that need… he shuddered, searching for even a single ray of comfort. 

What he wouldn’t give for comfort of any kind.

The unbearable warmth that was Tsukino Usagi seared his chest; so inviting and warm and sweet he wondered if she could bear to share it with him. After all he had done to her. After all he had given for her. Was it enough? 

He laughed bitterly at the thought, knowing any penance he could give would be a pathetic offering. His shoulders hunched as he pressed hands to his tired eyes. Even if he could spend all of eternity serving her, it would never suffice. He’d torn her from her throne, enslaved her soul to a dark god who still could call them from beyond Tartarus. He had ripped her heart from her chest and crushed it for months before she’d finally given in… and then he’d hunted her like a starving animal.

It was woefully inadequate to say the least, but maybe there was still hope for them –if she could find it in her heart to forgive him. It would take years to gain her trust; it would take him years more to feel like he’d earned it. All the while, the toasted thoughts of belonging filmed that hope like dew on morning grass. Like the night they met so long ago.

He breathed long and slow, forced his thoughts together again. His forehead pressed against the glass solidly, as if he could soak some of those last rays of hope through skin and skull. It was too much. The depth of them went on forever into his head. All this worrying was doing nothing for them and even less for his nerves. 

After all, wasn’t he Tuxedo Kamen? Wasn’t he the devilishly charming Chiba Mamoru? Who cares if she wasn’t drawn to him for those reasons, he’d charm the hell out of her till she just couldn’t take it anymore! He’d hold her light up until there was no denying for anyone else that his Titan reigned supreme! He’d spoil her so damn rotten that any other man would pale, crumble, and turn to ash in her beautiful eyes! He’d lay waste to this horrific reality, this tortured, fear-drowned world and rebuild it in her image and she would know, as he knew…

He straightened, launching himself away from the window and out of his troubled thoughts. He still felt incapable of showing everyone else the true nature of his intentions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t start with the first step. One individual, in particular, would be the first beneficiary of his newfound resolutions. It was with that thought that he reached for his cell phone and dialed.  
.  
.  
…………………………….  
Butter colored light bled the front room dry, so thick and blinding that even photographs seemed nothing but glinting memories. The sticky, honey colored rays clung to the familiar items through the doorway, filtered through hair and skin, and seemed to warm the entryway by simply existing. It was false, lackluster, a lie. The heavy glow sat perched on the objects without a single thought of heat.

The blond trudged through. The sight of the front room seemed dispassionate despite the sunlight for some reason, left her thoughts trailing as she called a swift “I’m home!” into the house. Her bag was deposited in the rack, her shoes kicked from dainty feet. Within moments the living room crawled out from behind a corner even as her mother’s soft voice echoed the greeting. The words were lost, though, never to be found.

There, lounging along the couch as if he owned it, was Chiba Mamoru. The sight was so surprising that she didn’t even bother to return the words her mother had sent her. He looked good, as always, his unkempt black hair feathering across his forehead and catching the afternoon sunlight. He wore a loose, plain black button down, probably something meant for his internship, and crisp pants. She suddenly realized her mouth had gone dry and she was eyeing him like a chunk of meat in a grocery store. When her eyes snapped up to his face, he was grinning wickedly, obviously reading her thoughts.

The long, powerful body bunched together as he lifted himself from the sofa and all but stalked over to her side. Almost wildly, she noted how big he was, how he seemed to block out the sunlight from the front window, and how he could easily crush her tiny, scrawny little form like it was nothing. His finger brushed her cheek as he bent to lean a kiss against her forehead temptingly. He was the only one in the room for all she cared when those midnight dark eyes settled on her face again, impish grin both suggestive and sweet.

“Why don’t you go change out of your school clothes, ne Odango-chan? So I don’t feel like a pedophile?” the use of the hated nickname still rankled after all this time. 

“And why don’t you stop looking at me like that so I won’t feel like a skank, ne, Buta-kun?” He chuckled, flitting his eyes toward her very forgotten mother who seemed to be hiding her smile in the coffee mug. Usagi reddened a little, glancing back up at his haughty face accusingly and muttering to herself. “You are such a jerk.” 

“Only for you, Odango.” 

She rolled her eyes, quickly making her way toward the stairs and the safety of her room. What on earth was he even doing here anyway? And why hadn’t he called her first! Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought, wondering if he was trying to get himself killed by her father. And what had he been doing chatting with her mother! The idea of those two talking was like ice bergs and giraffes. It didn’t make any sense, what on earth would the topic be other than her!

Doubtful eyes scanned the emptiness for a moment, pondering what the two others had in common. Global warming? The thought had her snickering momentarily before she could remember the reason for the comparison.

 

Because Mamoru was…was just a jerk! And a bully! How dare he come over and try to charm her mother without even letting Usagi know it was happening! Even traditional boyfriends had to go through the awkward ‘meet the parents’ phase, and they weren’t even dating! And part of her would have so loved to watch him writhe beneath the searching glare of her papa! A delicious cackle spurted free at the thought, imagining a nervous and awkward chibi-Mamoru twiddling his thumbs while her shark-mouthed father bellowed.

It would serve him right! That pig! He spends all week acting like some sort of hero down at the Cown, kisses her hand and everything, and for what? It wasn’t like he’d kissed her the other day! It wasn’t like he’d done anything but tease her!

And why hadn’t he! Seriously, the guy does absolutely everything in his power to snag a date with her, now that he knew, and instead of roses and candlelight and all the mushy stuff, he’d taken her on some awkward hike! Well, so it was a beautiful walk through the woods, and he did carry her back to the car. But that didn’t excuse the fact that he was teasing her! Still! A low growl rubbed at her throat. Then to just leave her on the porch like a drowned puppy! She wasn’t so sure she wanted another date with him! What would it be this time: champagne with live lobsters on the plate?

The grumbling continued as she stomped down the hallway to the warm surroundings of her bedroom. She turned, closing the door with lightning speed as if to keep him out. Even that had her scoffing deep down, though, as she turned to view her room. The charming, knock-your-socks-off grin had been languishing on his disgustingly perfect face, which could only mean one thing: her romance novel-loving mama was currently being enchanted to no end.

The thought made her thunderous mood darken.

Sure, use it on Moon and use it on a housewife, but Usagi? No! Not that she wanted his delicious attention. Not that she wanted those intense, haunting eyes on her every second. No! She slid from the door, clenching her fists in rage at the thought. There was no reason not to march right back down that and knock him silly for treating her like that! Or maybe not treating her like that. Sky blue eyes glowered dangerously.

A silver box lay temptingly on her bed, shining in the afternoon sunlight like a gift from the heavens. The anger melted at the sight, replaced with a certain amount of childish curiosity.   
Warily, still miffed, the girl crossed the room, narrowly missing the slumbering cat at her bedside. The package all but begged to be touched, but even that seemed suspicious. Either it was from Mamoru, in which case it could literally hold anything from roses to spiders, or she had a secret admirer.

She snorted, lifting the box and tearing through the wrapper. If it was spiders, she’d make that cocky jerk come up here and chase every single one down. Not that their bickering had ever been so nasty, she amended at the thought. In fact, the bitterness most recently had been because of betrayal, a lack of trust. She shivered, taking a moment to quell the torrid memories. The feel of his lips on her neck hinted such pitiful, childish fighting would never be the threat again. She growled, elbowing the thought aside. Finally, the lid lifted free and the tissue paper was flung away. White teeth nibbled at her already sore lip as she stared at the gift in apprehension.

Obviously, the man had it out for her wardrobe. He’d made himself perfectly clear the night of the dance that something fishy had been going on with it. To her own horror, she had discovered the tell-tale instructions hidden within her mother’s sewing drawer yesterday morning. He had made an excellent point about his tux, though, and she hated admitting he was right. One glance in her vanity mirror showed a girl in a poorly fitting school uniform and a young face. He’d had a point about that, too.

It was hard admitting he was right. The guy was so insensitive! So what if she looked…like, 5 years younger than what she actually was. He, as some weird clandestine soul mate, should have been able to see through that like tissue paper! He should have just…known! This was not how fairy tales went; it was not how these kinds of things were supposed to play out! She lived and breathed a world of fantasy- well, maybe a world of horror- and it just…wasn’t….

A few tears slipped free as she turned to the mirror again. The rumpled folds of her uniform sagged, bagged and prodded in all the wrong places. She’d always assumed that every school uniform ever made had been like that, but Naru’s fit. It wasn’t the most flattering piece, but at least it didn’t make her look ten. Mamoru thought she was beautiful; you didn’t just traipse around Tokyo in a tuxedo and top hat for some girl you didn’t even like. You definitely didn’t shift your whole life around for a girl you couldn’t stand to look at. It all boiled down to that one fact: her clothes had hidden her in the guise of a child.

The uniform slid free, fell to the ground like a skin shed. The jerk had a few good points; and maybe he wasn’t as shallow as all that. After all, he had talked about much more than just the clothes that night on the side of the road. Their heated conversation brought feelings rolling to the surface, which she immediately pushed to the side.

Her eyes drew back toward the waiting box, tracing the soft lines as if it were some sort of bomb in need of diffusing. She smoothed the soft fabric thoughtfully, testing the sweetheart neckline with her forefinger. Even lifted to the sunlight, she couldn’t seem to find something wrong with the cute sundress; and the least she could do was try it on. She struggled through the contraption momentarily and slid the zipper home.

The sunshine yellow cupped snugly around the waist, accented with a tiny bow that made her smile despite herself. She turned to the sparse mirror, eyeballing it critically for any sign of perversity. The A-line skirt stopped barely above the knee and the neckline wasn’t too busty. She slid a fingernail across the eyelet pattern, touched the fabric with the flat of her palm. The girl in the mirror looked trim and young and beautiful, versus the drowned rat of a child in the school uniform.

Glowering, she realized she’d have to find something else to be bothered by, because despite Mamoru’s lack of personality, he did have pretty wicked taste in clothes.  
.  
.  
………….

The retreat back downstairs revealed her tormentor standing calmly in the entryway and her mother nowhere in sight. Apprehension chilled her to the bone just thinking about it, though the slight pang of relief at not having to show her the dress was a bonus. The thick, ebony black hair flicked upward, filling the space between with the midnight sky of his gaze. She froze on the steps, afraid a single move would break the strange truce between them.

“Where’s mom?” she asked finally, noting he’d taken his time to look her over. 

“I didn’t eat her, if that’s what you’re asking.” He answered, sardonic smile tilting the corner of his mouth. She gulped, feeling the nervous tremble of her hands as he launched himself from the door and stalked across the room toward her. This was a mistake! Nervous jitters bounced and clanged in her stomach as his hand slid warmly around hers. “Ready?”

“For what,” came the quiet, albeit breathy reply. There were too many possibilities, and frankly with him this close, the steamier ones were rising to the top of the list. The previous frustration and anger that had so troubled the little blond minutes before popped like an overfilled balloon as he tsked and raised that hand to his lips. 

“Really, Odango?” he rumbled quietly, so close she could reach out and grab his shirt by the fistful. The young girl gulped, feeling the blush begin to fleck across her cheeks at the thought. His smile deepened, even as he stepped back and tugged at her hand playfully.

The shoes were thrown over her small feet even as the yawning sunlight stretched across the floorboards to the outside world. The harsh black outline of him broke the butter yellow glow in a perfect silhouette across the lines of his shoulders, his jaw. Something was different today. He was just as orderly, just as impassable as he had always been, and yet…. She stood again, eagerly fiddling with a strand of hair as he gripped her other hand. Early summer wind played within the golden bangs around her face as she stepped over the threshold and into the unknown. 

“I really like that on you,” he began, interlacing their fingers as they walked. The breeze smelled like lilac and fresh grass, so different from her unmemorable walk home from school. His touch on her fingers felt confidant and strong, nothing like the meek and nervous man he’d been in the park. A shy smile began to spread across her face at how strange it all seemed, like a dream. “It matches your odangos.”

Icy fury slapped the growing softness from her face, stopped the girl short. He was laughing at her! Here, she’d been hoping that the otherworldly beginning of this date would be a stark contrast to the other, and instead he was already insulting her!

"Look, no matter how this falls, you really have to stop making fun of my hair!" she fumed, tugging back at his hold. Anger was easier than letting that fury, or worse, the sadness take her, especially when his warm fingers danced across her thumb. She forced herself not to look at him, not to notice how the wind lapped at his shirt, threw shards of night black hair into his eyes. This is how it would always be, her pulled along behind while he dictated every move! 

The shadows moved closer on the edge of her vision, the breeze pushing his spicy, inviting scent directly across her face. His fingers slid past her arm, sent butterflies twirling beneath the skin before delving into the soft, curling strands. Her heart boomed against the pathetic wall of her ribs, accented the rage with something equally hot, equally intense. She gulped.

"Don't worry; I consider it a biological imperative to keep it that way,” he smirked, pulling her gaze upward. “Seriously, no one just comes up with that nonsense." The words seemed like every other time they fought, but there was no hint of coldness. Intense cobalt eyes seethed openly, filled with longing and amusement and something deeper that seemed to call across the centuries. Heaven help her, but she felt her answer bubbling up like champagne from her chest to her head, filling her without permission. 

"So you will?" she asked quietly. His fingers deftly tucked around her head, cradled her closer. A thoughtful look crossed his handsome features, so close now she could see every minute detail of the change. The swirling midnight depths flashed to her twin buns. A teasing finger prodded at them from behind as he shrugged.

"Probably not, but at least it makes sense. I like your hair, and the style is just about as amusing."

She let out a strangled cry as the spell broke, spinning to stalk back into the house. Mamoru watched her go, noting almost absently that his fingers were tingling. It would take some getting used to, but he supposed the necessary time and experimentation could be enjoyable. He couldn't help the disturbed little chuckle that broke free before sprinting after her. The livid blond was trembling when he folded both arms around her, tugging gently away from the front door.

"We're really going to have to work on the flirting, aren't we?" he asked quietly, nuzzling his face into her hair. The warm vanilla scent was quickly becoming a favorite, laced with sunshine and happiness. He breathed deeply, allowing the exhale to waft across her neck and ear. Damn it, she was his; even if she didn’t know it yet! 

"That was flirting to you?" she guffawed. The girl spun, shivering, half way between rage and curiosity. "Don’t even try to tell me all the other times were too!" 

He let his arms fall to her waist, loving the curve of her hips perhaps a little too much. Those sapphire eyes were dangerously hard, her mouth a thin line of frustration. Rather than let his fingers do the talking, as he so would have loved to do, he settled one arm around her waist and led her back to the car. An amused grin stamped permanently across his features, though she tried not to look. Furiously, she reminded herself of hating how his fingers seemed to wrap around her hip with just enough pressure. 

"Would it count if I told you I thought of you more than any other girl ever?" he asked lazily, face still close to her ear. She couldn’t help the suspicious glare as he slid the passenger side door open before awkwardly settling into the seat. The door clicked shut while she nibbled nervously on her lip, twisting the folds of her dress in agitation while the enigma made his way around the vehicle.

"Depends. Was it positive?" she challenged finally, crossing her arms as if he had no effect on her. It was getting too warm, and the crack-frittered fairies dancing through her system were not helping at all. How was she supposed to remain cold and distant when he was just…freaking existing around her! The man should just go away! It was like Endymion, Mamoru and Kamen had all ganged up somewhere along the way to drive her mad.

It was too much temptation. 

"We’re getting there," he murmured, those same hot eyes burning through her as his seatbelt was fastened. The sudden purr of the engine nearly forced a squeak free as they slid into traffic. It had been so easy before when he was nervous and awkward and perhaps a little pathetic. The slick devil at her side was making it difficult to feel like she was still on the moral high ground, especially because he was finally using those moves on her! Usagi! As if she wasn’t just some kid with a crush on him!

“Where are we going?” she asked, feeling distrustful. It had been one thing, the other day, to be picked up by a nervous, awkward boy. There had been no threat, nothing but the anger and resentment of being trailed along like a drowned puppy for months. Even when they’d parked alone in the trees, she knew he wasn’t trying to hurt her. Even now, she knew he wouldn’t try anything. But this new version of him, all magnetism and charm and practically dripping in sex appeal had her nervous for alternative reasons. Mamoru was a well known playboy, and she had no intention of being just another name on a long list.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled boyishly, rattling her previous thought into oblivion. 

“Oh.”

"So I'm pretty comfortable with the thought process in that head of yours, but how about you tell me about something you like." His question was casual, hardly the same intensity from the gaze that still threatened to force her heart out through her throat. She settled on staring at the car rather than him, it was easier to block out the attraction.

"Anything?" she queried, feeling childish and small in his beast of a vehicle. The shiny black interior slid in languid opulence like a black panther on a gold chain. The lines prowled across the dashboard, the backlit odometer. A nervous gulp itched at her throat; left her feeling, for lack of a better word, tacky. At least this trip she wasn’t wearing a home-made shirt.

"I won’t even tease you for it." 

His tone was all jaded laughter, but a single glance revealed soft eyes, a gentle smile. Chiba Mamoru seemed to be a man of many faces, and she’d only seen a few in their short, hurried encounters. Perhaps it was a bit naïve, but it seemed the cool upperclassman was genuinely interested in getting to know her. Of course, that thought made reason stare. Usagi was probably the least interesting person ever –after all, her hobbies included a side of fries and game tokens.

He’d tried so hard the other day. He’d been nervous, his hands clenching every time she looked at him. Every word from his mouth had been an inquiry, as if he just couldn’t figure her out. Too afraid to answer, she’d let them pass overhead. It didn’t matter. His interest was only in Moon. As much as it pained her to admit it, but building up her alter ego had had a much bigger effect on her than she realized. Hadn’t she broken the bond between them? Perhaps there was more to Usagi than even she knew.

Maybe this new, strange mix of Mamoru was him thinking much the same.

"I really like Manga." The quiet voice betrayed no deeper thoughts, even as he risked a glance from the road. She was turned away again, her sunshine golden hair a subtle contrast to the yellow sundress. The tone warmed her skin from the inside, brought out the child-like beauty of her features touched with color. 

"That much was a little obvious. What about it do you like?" he pressed, hoping this time she would offer more than frustration or resentment. There was no hint of his firebrand, his lioness in the shifting, uncomfortable figure. This version of Usagi seemed so small, so terribly out of place despite her new clothing. The thought was ironic, so different from how he hoped it would make her feel.

"The art,” she murmured finally, glancing up at him as if to gauge his reaction. He smiled encouragingly, waiting for more from the once-chatterbox. It seemed, even faded in memories, she had always talked more, and louder. It made him wonder what it would take to see her like that again. Her eyes fell away again, as if it was too much to look at him. “I like the way the people look."  
"That explains the style of your final," he replied, eyes trained to the road. It wasn’t exactly Rembrandt, but her swirling lines, and especially the eyes hinted at the comic books she purportedly loved so much. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought.

A thrill of awkward guilt swept through her form, made the goosebumps of her flesh stand out in warning. She rubbed at her skin thoughtfully, face scrunched up tight in humiliation. Of all the things he could have seen from that class, he had to choose that stupid picture. It brought back the hours of grumbling; sketching lines only to erase them again. The final had been the headshot of the class, begun late in the evening just a few days ago. She never should have put it off so long, but finding out you were royalty tended to take a chunk out of your homework time. As did passing out in the street, stressing over stupid Mamoru, and breaking some ancient soul bond like a twig.

It had been a busy week. 

"Oh...you saw that? 'Toki said he was doing the grading," Usagi muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The leather squeaked with every movement, made the tense space between words seem more daunting.

"Actually it was the nail in the coffin. Without it, I never would have known for sure." her protector noted, tone cool again despite the confession. 

"What are you even talking about? It’s just a selfie with pencil," she gawked awkwardly, racking her brain for any reason that would be the case.

He grimaced at the word choice, knowing that picture was anything but slang. She must have spent a long time on it; the graphite sketched a ghostly halo around her face that seemed both appropriate and telling. Not that it mattered, but he’d made sure Motoki gave her full marks for it. After all, the assignment had been to show how you saw yourself, wasn’t it? As he had seen straight through to the core, he felt it more than exemplified the requirements.

“You’d be surprised how easy it was once I was drunk. Really, this just tells me I should have gotten smashed earlier and gone for a walk.” The man grinned wickedly, knowing exactly what that would have caused. The second she’d come barreling into him and end up splashed on the sidewalk with those delicious legs everywhere, it would have been pretty damn easy. After all, only one girl could have a set like that: and she was currently out with him.

She blanched, thoughts traveling the less perverse side of the road. How it really would have ended up was her on her butt once again, staring up at his icy cold face. Even if he’d recognized her, it would have been with disbelief, anger, and perhaps even hostility. That was something she really couldn’t handle. Good thing all of this had nothing to do with her.

There was no escaping the past. Sure, Usagi was a kid with a crush, but Serenity was the last viable goddess on the planet capable of pretty much anything once they found the Ginzuisho. The few, confused memories of the Queen using the ill-fated gem were terrifying –and someday she’d be called to do the same. The idea chilled her, spread from her chest deep into the core of things, and lodged over her heart like a scythe. 

Someday soon, she would have to face off against the dark queen, she would have to fight the force that even her mother couldn’t beat. The only clue they’d had to Beryl’s real intentions had been standing at her own deathbed, shaking, while the snake-like woman clawed and raged for her prince. A shudder slithered along her back, cold as ice.

With the power of the mythic stone, knowing Endymion only cared for Serenity, that Tuxedo Kamen and Chiba Mamoru only loved Sailor Moon, would she be able to master that power without twisting like that hag? Would she someday be the same terrible being bent on only one thing- the love of a man who literally couldn’t be bothered to see her for who she was? Could Usagi ever be so desperate, so lost?

“You must think I’m only doing this for her,” he whispered quietly. She was shivering, coated in thoughts much too dark for such a happy occasion. It didn’t take much to read through her, though. Usagi had never been good at hiding her emotions. Even without the benefit of their bond, they were painting the inside of the cabin, coating everything with fear and disgust. Even as her darkened blue orbs shifted upward, the air laced with something hostile and venomous. “Usa…I never told you…”

“What?” she barked, wondering if all of her thoughts were so transparent. Mamoru didn’t even know her, not really. Yet, here he was easily picking through her brain as if the programming were right there on the dash. It was infuriating, especially knowing where those imaginings had brought her.

“That night in my apartment, I think I really saw you for the first time.” He glanced at her, noting the nervous white teeth nibbling at her lower lip and the fact she was fingering a lock of hair in her lap. She wouldn’t turn to look at him, though, too busy staring into the abyss ahead. He turned forward again, afraid of the words that clawed through his mind. “There was so much depth to you. Before, you’d always been this ridiculous…kid. That night I saw who you would be. I wondered who else would see it too.”

He remembered staring at her dark, pain-filled eyes with wonder and a bit of sorrow. He remembered how she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, stared resolutely at the floor. The image had been there, in the back of his mind, so sharp and real that even the sound of rainfall on the balcony came back with clarity. He sighed, horrified yet again that his subconscious mind had been on to her from the start, memorizing and drawing in all the parts of her that he had not bothered with. It made him sad, just for a brief moment; that so much time had been wasted in the chase. If he could have just stopped long enough to think, it would have been obvious. It would have been the way things were supposed to be. No fighting, no bickering; just two people meeting and falling into sync like the soul mates they were.

“If Moon had never existed, I think things would have changed for us then,” he murmured finally, slowing to stop for a light. The engine purred between words as other shifting forms took their place outside the window. She twisted away from him, mind retracing that night as it had done many times before.

“Funny. The look I saw was definitely a no.” The bitter words were accusing, hurt. He turned fully, viewing the crossed arms and flushed face.

“Would you rather I be unfaithful?” he offered. The golden blond hair shimmered in the sunlight as she shifted. The resulting silence spread thickly across each of them until a soft horn blared from the outside world, reminded him of traffic. 

Her shoulders fell finally as the weight of the car pulled them forward. He made a good point, yet again. How would she have felt if he'd gone for someone else without thinking? But it wasn’t like he cared about Usagi at all! That was what really bothered her! It wasn’t like he’d bothered to look! 

Even as the angered thoughts rose to the forefront, though, she wondered back at how easily it had been to choose between Tuxedo Kamen and Mamoru. Right from the beginning, she’d eyed his superhero form with no small amount of desire. Even then, as her handsome tormentor became the impenetrable wall of her existence, the dark savior had faded to the background, never really thought of so long as she wasn’t in danger. She would have traded every encounter with the cheesy, rose throwing savior for one kind look from the beast.

Now here she was, riding in his car, his blue eyes no longer frozen. And he was telling her, no, begging her to open up. Not just that, but the gushy romantic hero was coming through the charm, so sincere and concerned and sweet that it made her chest ache all over again! And it wasn’t fair! He wanted to stay with her, he wanted to be there for her, and all she could complain about was that he wouldn’t cheat on her with herself!

“No,” she whispered suddenly, realizing all that he meant by it. Oh gods, she wanted to cry all the sudden. He couldn't actually make that kind of promise after one date, could he? Was she reading him wrong? Was she allowing her stupid, schoolgirl brain to fill in the blanks that weren't there? This wasn't a fairytale! She was almost seventeen and way too young to be thinking like this!

“I thought, right then, that you would be so beautiful all grown up.” His dark eyes grew soft and warm, even facing the road she could feel the sweetness lacing every word. For one blinding moment, the heartache and pain and fear that had plagued her vanished beneath that tone. All traces of mocking cynicism and guardedness had fled. 

He had seen her. All this time, she had felt so broken because he didn’t recognize what was so blatantly in front of him, but some part of him had. She drew a deeper breath, trying to remain calm as he spoke. It was too much to ask. Dazedly, she wondered if somehow this were a dream that would come crashing down the moment he stopped speaking. His voice was so warm, like sunlight in July, like Endymion's had been that night in her room so long ago. The shared feeling bled through a look, each side willing the other to take the conversation deeper.

“I was thinking about how much you reminded me of Moon.” The smirk returned, and with it, the rising burn in her chest. The sweet, emotional moment they'd shared shattered, but not without leaving a gentle mark behind. 

“You’re kidding,” she gave flatly, crossing her arms.

“I told you I was an idiot,” he replied, turning that sinful mouth upward in amusement. “What’s funnier, I was thinking about what a great princess you would be. Should have put money on it.” Her jaw dropped at the confession, feeling a little foolish for jumping to conclusions earlier. Maybe she hadn’t quite thought this all the way through yet. After all, if he could admit to something that personal and self-incriminating, perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. It didn’t stop the irritation from boiling through her thoughts, though

“And now you knew it all along. Seriously, Chiba? You’re going to play that game?” she screeched in agitation, though it was hard not to be a little amused. Mamoru, open and honest, was proving to be a bit of a handful.

“Never said that.” The grin grew lazy, the eyes sharpening as they flicked between the road and her. 

“You just did! I can’t believe you!” she balked.

“Are you intentionally misinterpreting?” he asked silkily, throwing out the slick smile as if to challenge her. The spitfire retaliated.

“But you just said!”

“I said I thought you were beautiful. Want to fight about that?” he interrupted quickly, lacing his words with steely sweetness. She blanched, feeling the wind suddenly sucked out from behind her. The thoughts in her brain swirled in confusion for a second, not realizing what he’d meant by it.

“…no.”

It left them both quiet again, lost in a funk. The constant teeter-totter of their relationship was driving her slowly mad. First, he goes and gets all squishy on her and then he’s calling her beautiful? And to top it off, they were fighting again! A frustrated puff of air fingered her bangs as she settled back into her seat without another word. This was going to be complicated. This whole mess was probably complicated before the date had ever started, probably before the adventure began last summer.

Houses had given way to highway, which had quickly melted into downtown. The high-rise buildings grew fancier, more artistic as they drove. Considering their last date had literally been in the middle of nowhere, it was actually comforting to think there would be distractions this time. 

This was so natural. Even the other date had been confusing and unfocused, but in that shared instant, it had felt like their souls had touched. It had been brief, something that sent a spear of nervousness between his shoulder blades. He risked a silent glance her way, wondering if she felt it too. 

It was strange to share such deep, personal things. It had always been a burden, one he was normally unwilling to have with another person. His confession had shocked even him, that such a thought had passed his mouth seemed otherworldly. He retraced the quiet, contemplative face she’d offered in the midst of it all, and couldn’t help but wonder how much things really had changed.

The blond nervously slid white teeth across her lower lip, staring resolutely forward as if to avoid him. It was inevitable. He grimaced at the thought, wondering where the teasing hope of earlier thoughts had gone to. A steady breath drew his lungs taut before releasing. It would take some time, but there was plenty of that to go around.

“Look, this whole enslavement for eternity thing is really going to be rough on both of us.” The thought shattered their mutual silence, sent heaven blue eyes wandering his way. 

“Yeah.” She nodded, still a little lost. The clouded depths seemed confused, maybe a little hurt. 

“And I’m probably going to be a bastard most of the time when we first meet. It won’t mean much, but I’m sorry in advance.” They slid to a stop again, giving him ample time to look at his date. A nervous, almost guilty smile lit the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, I figured.” She shifted in her seat again, trying not to look at him. It was hard, because he was being so honest and forward. It was hard because what he’d done really was unfair and she really should still hate him for it. Mostly, it was hard because even that fire was slowly cooling as they spoke. It didn’t change the past, but it did make it obvious their future wouldn’t exactly be a repeat of bad decisions and mistrust. His warm hand closed over hers, his thumb caressing her arm gently. It called her back from the window, blinking as their eyes met again.

“I want you to know that you have taught me a lot in the past year. It might not seem like it right now, but you’ve changed me for the better.” Despite reservations and nervousness, his warm stroke was soothing. She felt the slip of muscles, watched as his fingers slid along her forearm and laced with hers as if mesmerized by the action. His touch was soft and familiar, as if their lives had always been this way.

It was beautiful, the way their fingers fit together, the way they fit. His aristocratic hands were long and slender, like hers. It was strange to think that those same hands could blow up Youma, wield a huge sword, and throw steel tipped roses. They were as multifaceted as their owner, and yes, it was entrancing to watch them slide across her hands, rest within her own fingers as if they could never hurt anyone. Clouded blue eyes blinked.

“Well, this is our second date. Which is odd, since technically we’re married. Before we started dating. This is going to give me a headache.” The girl tingled, felt the raw energy pulsing between their dual grip. She scratched between the odangos in confusion and perhaps a little arousal. A low rumble chuckled from his chest, filled the cabin with honey colored warmth.

“Are we gauging this on the previous marriage? If so, I greatly over-planned this. We could have just gone to my place and, you know…”

“Ma-Mamoru-san!” she screamed, scandalized and blushing to her toes. Her arm tugged away on reflex, and he instantly released his hold.

“Kidding!" The wolfish, hungry turn of his eyes spoke otherwise. She gulped, feeling a bit like a sheep trapped in his car. He was so close and the spicy sent of his cologne sizzled the air. Yet even as her fingers twisted together, even as they turned into a large parking lot, she missed that warm, tingling sensation. “Anyway, I figure it’s my turn to teach you something in return.”

It took a moment for his words to break through the haze even as they slid into a parking stall. Anxiety buzzed in her fingertips in tangible static and she found her thoughts drifting dangerously close to the volcanic past. This date was definitely a bad idea.

“Should I be terrified?” she whispered. The looming building had never been so intimidating with her friends. Of course, in retrospect she’d never felt like any of the Senshi were a tiger on a leash like the grinning man next to her. His mouth was positively evil, though his eyes conveyed a certain boyish charm.

“Only if you hate shopping. Lesson one: you are a knockout.” Those dark, hungry eyes flicked across her while she blushed.

“Um…don’t guys hate shopping?” she muttered finally, absolutely sure that particular fact had been brought up multiple times with classmates.

“I was a model, remember? Who do you think picked out that dress?”


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

He could feel the anxiety simmering beneath the skin like the sucking depths of despair. The rampant, raging feeling had been settled there in his chest for far too long. He had worked with every ounce of strength he could muster to make things better, to shift that burning ember from his soul. He had done much wrong in his two lifetimes; he had also done much right.

The white chalk dust frosted his fingertips like an ever present winter, a place he’d banished himself to all week. Beneath the churning thoughts, the carefully reworked rubble of his life, there had been hope. He dusted the specks free, quickly wiping at faded jeans as if he could remove the flakes from his being.

It was much too late for that. Though the specks currently residing on his bent knees originated from the new drywall of the arcade, the symbolism was just too much to bear. It would take more than money, more than simple trappings to pick up the shattered pieces of his life, and make things as they should be. It would take so much more than he could currently give.

The battle just before Serenity’s appearance had nearly demolished that stupid, loved old building. Motoki had been frantically trying to get estimates ever since, but the contractors were either booked solid or no longer in business. No wonder the mall hadn’t been rebuilt. No wonder the city was practically in ruins. He’d been too obsessed to notice, too completely driven to go back and check on his friend, even though…

What? How long had it been really? That night seemed ages in the past, but it had only been a week or two. Eventful, definitely, but not long enough to get things back to normal. At first sight, the place was completely ruined. A curious hand sought the ache in his chest at the thought. There were only so many familiar places in town and the Crown had been a constant in his life until that moment.

Construction workers were in high demand and it would take months without an income to secure one. Rather than be destroyed by the idea, Mamoru had instantly pulled out his wallet. Without the distractions of class, it would take no time to patch the place up. Mr. Furuhata came, along with two more sons and a few others. Between the lot of them, the place would be back to normal in a week or so, he was sure. 

Tired, dark blue eyes graced the top of a coffee table littered in paper. His grades had come in, something he’d been dreading for days now. If it hadn’t been for a simple, well-meant phone call only yesterday, he’d probably be tearing his hair out in frustration. So lucky; it seemed someone above had been watching his back through the tempest. Someone, he was sure, who had a personal stake in his future.

The day after his and Usagi’s first less-than-impressive date, he’d received a phone call from a worried professor. With so many excellent semesters under his belt, it had come as quite a shock to see him skip two, yes two, finals even after taking on an extra credit teaching class to raise his grade. The concern of the usually detached voice on the other end of the phone had…touched him.

The feeling was still uncomfortable and strange. Perhaps even worse to his logical brain, the conversation had lead deeper than he really wanted it to go and revealed a hint of what he’d really been up to for the past four months. Hours spent in an orphanage, fighting for the friendship of a child he was sure hated him, days spent trying to organize his life and thoughts long enough to put two things together. Even though he couldn’t bear to speak of his golden angel, the other man had somehow known. It was like her touch could be sensed through the floundering explanation, the tense exhaustion that permeated everything all at once.

It had been enough. The quiet voice on the phone had soothed his worries, promised him excellent marks despite missing his test, and quietly hung up.

The weight still bore at his chest: gratitude, resentment, and perhaps a little bit of hope. It didn’t fix everything; he would still need to retake the other course before graduation, but that was much more doable than trying to juggle two extra classes next semester. Perhaps if he was lucky again, a summer session would open up and have him back on track for the winter.

Luck. He was sure there was another word for it now, one that started with F.

It didn’t matter if they even existed anymore. Those cackling, hunched old wenches had twisted their fingers deep into his life, had given him the pretense of everything a man could want. He groaned, casting angry eyes around the beautiful, empty apartment. So much of his time had been spent chasing the things that would destroy him in the end. The women, the money, the fame……it was a chilling lesson in psychology; one he would not soon forget.  
There were no reservations about that blood test, the convenient talent scout, or the perfectly timed sponsor willing to help him into college. No, luck had nothing to do with it.

It was amazing to him, how even after all this time, the only goal they could see was separation. It was as if their affronted past could somehow override the necessity of the present –as if they could dare reach that all-seeing eye straight into a future they couldn’t control and somehow still write the outcome. A sneer lifted the corner of his mouth as he thought of it.

The Fates could cry all they wished. They had failed.  
Tsukino Usagi was, for all outward appearances, quite a normal girl. A little backward when it came to the ways of the world, and probably hopeless for life with technology, but that would probably change once he had a chance to give her his gift. Her parents apparently disliked the use of cell phones, but he’d bought her one anyway. He wasn’’t really looking forward to being on their favorites list anytime soon and it would take her a while to figure out how to use it.

The delightful blond had been helping at the arcade as well, though she seemed much better at fidgeting uneasily than really doing any help. She was too clumsy to hand out drinks, completely useless with a tape measure, and hilariously incapable of using a hammer. Still, the ray of light seemed more than happy to sit around and try to amuse everyone. 

It was in those times, even an hour ago, when he would watch her. The ridiculous home-made clothing reeked of a mother swaddling her baby, but the woman beneath was beginning to shine through. With that spicy sense of humor and ridiculous laugh, he’d found himself smiling at the banter, enjoying the stupid puns. He loved how expressive her face was, how ridiculous her features could twist and dance as she told a story or reacted to something said. 

It had been there all along. He retraced over every fight they’d had, remembered how fiery and passionate she had always been, how her insults had backhanded his ego more times than he’d care admit. He’d teased her about her grades, while silently cursing her clever mind; loved her comebacks, the way she was always invading his space as if their arguments were more physical than mental. He’d enjoyed her right from the start, even if he’d only seen the child. 

Even her friends, who were constantly glued to her side, seemed willing to learn more about him. It was a nice change of pace. Last time he’d seen them all together, he was pretty sure the guardians had been howling for his head on a pike. Such were the strange twists of life. It was difficult to find common ground with most of the giggling hoard. Amy, the shy techie, seemed more his pace than the rest. For the sake of hovering heaven blue eyes and a nervous smile from his goddess, he found himself commenting if only a little bit. He didn’t know these girls, except for a much abashed Rei, and it would take some time before they could talk freely.

Motoki had been all shock and outrage when he’d walked in on a lively conversation and found his best friend smiling along. A wry laugh rumbled free from Mamoru’s chest at the memory. It would have been quite strange had their roles been reversed. He’’d never been one for group conversations unless it was a debate, and updating the red Formica countertops hardly qualified.

His cheek still ached a little from that punch the other night. He brushed dust covered fingers across his face, knowing his friend sported a matching bruise along the jaw. They’d both had points worth noting, and thankfully it had been left at that. Motoki never should have kept the information from him. He never should have judged Usagi so harshly, or given in to the despair that had ruled his existence for so long.

As much as he would love to blame the Fates for that, it would have been a lie. True, if he’d had a real family and real friends to call his own, it never would have happened. In the end, it was his decision, one that he’d sold himself to so deeply that even the thought of both nemesis and warrior together had seemed impossible. Looking back, he could see how silly the idea was.

The three women were quickly melding into one increasingly complex creature. Love was such a foreign concept to him and yet there it was, staring right through him framed in golden lashes. The date had proven nothing. He hadn’t learned a single thing about her and the enigma wriggled in the back of his mind like a parasite. All it had proven was the initial attraction; and perhaps his ability to get close to her if he so desired. Which he did.

It simply wasn’t enough. If nothing else, the last few days working on the arcade had been spent puzzling over that beautiful mind as if it were some sort of brain teaser he couldn’t leave alone. They didn’t seem to speak much in public, yet she was always watching him. At first, especially the day after, she’d been curious about the surprise ending he’d left her with. Even he’d been shocked at such a bold move after everything that had happened.

Then the curiosity had shifted, grown dark and suspicious. Even as he smiled with the laughter of her friends, he could see she was writhing in her seat. He could see how that tension was getting to her. Usagi did not do well with those kinds of emotions. She was not equipped to handle the uncertainty. When her friends had left this afternoon, allowing their leader to trail behind, he had reached for her.

The spark still tingled in his fingers from her arm. There were no words passed between them, frankly he felt his actions spoke louder than all that. He promised he would be by soon, had kissed her hand with all the tenderness and love that he felt for her. Even as the true meaning of that word had evaded him, he knew it would be her or nothing.

Love. It had been a question in his mind for years now. Something he was sure existed and yet had never been able to pin down and define. Why did he love her so much? How was it possible for someone like him to even know what it meant? How could he hope to return the sweet forgiveness, that same openness when he could barely handle a conversation that wasn’t removed and polite? How could he begin to say why it was he desired so much to be with her?

The answer had been so simple. It had been the most breathtakingly beautiful moment he’d ever seen in his life today. A mother, harassed and exhausted, had come in off the street for a quick drink of water. Behind her, a young boy no more than four had trailed along, fat tears running a marathon down his face. Usagi, bless her beautiful, otherworldly soul, had instantly reacted.

It began with the funny faces and quickly launched into a comic tongue war that left the screaming child giggling hysterically. The sound of that musical laughter had burrowed into his soul like a living beast, roared in the back of his mind and all but trampled any other thought that might have surfaced. Flashbacks of Moon checking the little children with her long flowing hair in the grass, how he’d always attributed her love of children to some deeper meaning. To her, it was just normal, but to him it had been beyond words, beyond description.

And he had known, oh gods, how he’d suddenly seen exactly why he’d loved her so much. Deep beneath the skin, he still could feel the pathetic heartbreak of a sterile hospital bed, the dingy torture of a room –of a life- without it. He had known nothing, not even his real name until years after the event. Let alone the strange, faceless photograph he had of who would have been his parents in this life. Even the picture had seemed worthless. There was no recollection of the people they were, or why they had ever gotten in the car to begin with. It was only the emptiness, the loneliness, and the longing. In his heart and soul, that broken child begged for the soothing sweetness that was her core. Nothing could erase the past he’d trudged through, nothing could make those memories a fantasy. 

For all the weird explanations, the extrapolations that could be used to describe that undeniable pull toward her, it came down to this. It was not the lusty love at first sight as it had been with Endymion, nor was it the instantaneous dislike of a girl who seemed incapable of doing anything worthwhile. It was simply one soul seeing another for all that it was, and resolutely clicking into place. It was simply logical, mathematical sense. The Fates may have made him fatherless for eternity, but they had also cemented his love for her for all that time, with or without any other factor.

Perhaps Motoki had said it best in that moment. On seeing what Mamoru could not cover in his face, the wise manager had placed a knowing hand on his shoulder. He’d turned, so surprised, so confused at the sudden touch. They were guys; you didn’t just invade personal space like that. And yet, that tender knowledge had made that moment so heartbreaking, he just didn’t seem to care.

“You’re beginning to understand,” he’d said. Simple as that. As if his whole world hadn’t been shaken, shifted, and changed in that moment. As if suddenly he was on equal ground only to find that everyone else had always assumed he’d been there with them. Love was more than desire, longing, or need. That earth-shattering, life-changing force boiled down to this: healing, soft, grateful, and sweet. Eternal.

He knew. That knowledge gave him power- gave him back the drive he had been using all this time to find her that had somehow been lost in translation. Even without the golden link grafted into his soul like a chain, free from a Titan’s curse that would enslave him forever, he –Chiba Mamoru- loved Usagi desperately and passionately. As if these things had never existed, as if she were not some fallen goddess; he just loved the sweet, compassionate woman she was.

A smile lit his face. The frosted fingers rubbed at his stubble in thought. His Odango would change everything in his life, throw back the curtains and rip them from the wall. And he would hurt and ache and love every second of her chaos and happiness. He would learn to laugh till his sides ached, and use stupid pet names, and eventually he would make that deal as permanent as physically possible. It was a strange flash of the future, a call of destiny more than a fancy. She would ruin his perfect world and he would die to protect her while she did it.

The thought brought an unexpected pang at his rib. He sought the twinge with his fingers, spreading the specks of dust across the already clouded old t-shirt. It still ached sometimes, even days after the incident. He wondered faintly if it always would. She had severed it with decisive finality and he still didn’t know quite why. It had been their only means of communication in this life. It had pulled him to her like a magnet when she was in danger, had forced him into harms path for no other reason than to save her. Not the other Senshi. Her.

Without that tug at his side, how could he possibly protect her? How could he possibly know she was in danger without the rush, the fleeting touch of her psyche in his mind? How would he know, he wondered, when he was needed? More importantly, how would he know if he was needed? 

The young man stood, his movements quick and agitated in the dying sunlight as he paced. The idea that his goddess simply did not need him anymore was too terrifying to consider. But it had been months since that was the case, since Christmas. He could pull the pristine memories from the vault of his mind like instant replay, knowing even as he watched her flip and dive and slash her way through the ranks, that she was never meant to be a fighter. 

It didn’t change the fact that she was proving to be a pretty damn good one.

She was so strong now. With so much behind her, and so much left ahead, he had no qualms with the idea of his warrior taking on the world. The thought lanced his soul with guilt. Serenity herself would never have made it as a Senshi; she had no capacity for it. The sweet, ethereal goddess had been fragile in many ways, everything he had craved to protect in a harsh world. She was the embodiment of everything he felt he had lost in growing up as a planet’’s future ruler. She was everything he had ached to be and yet simply could not.

Though, in retrospect, it had changed her too. The faltering, awkward teen had felt the brush of deep depression, had taken fate into her own tiny hands and molded it to her pleasure. Her past had been in no way apparent as she did so; that invincible half of her that had been hidden within the slumbering Titan finally brought to light. She had taken so much of herself and shifted that reality, chosen the facets to augment and allowed others to fade into the background. Heck, she’’d even screamed in the face of fate by severing their bond, had challenged the course of their lives together.

His eyes settled on the grades from last semester, wondering what kind of future that could be. They weren’t tied together, and for all their future existences through the corridor of time, he was positive the Fates would tangle their wretched hands back into their lives. Setsuna had made it perfectly clear he would be an orphan forever, something that pained him to understand completely. Yet how could he possibly ask her to go through this hell every single time they were reborn? How could she possibly choose him without the security of their bond? How would she know she was meant to be his?

The palpable fear threatened to crush the life from his chest. Even one life without her would be torture. Even the last two and a half years without her had nearly killed him –had changed him. Would she still choose him? Was her draw to him as powerful as he now knew his to be? How would he know? She didn’t need him, she’d made that perfectly clear. And without that need… he shuddered, searching for even a single ray of comfort. 

What he wouldn’t give for comfort of any kind.

The unbearable warmth that was Tsukino Usagi seared his chest; so inviting and warm and sweet he wondered if she could bear to share it with him. After all he had done to her. After all he had given for her. Was it enough? 

He laughed bitterly at the thought, knowing any penance he could give would be a pathetic offering. His shoulders hunched as he pressed hands to his tired eyes. Even if he could spend all of eternity serving her, it would never suffice. He’d torn her from her throne, enslaved her soul to a dark god who still could call them from beyond Tartarus. He had ripped her heart from her chest and crushed it for months before she’d finally given in… and then he’d hunted her like a starving animal.

It was woefully inadequate to say the least, but maybe there was still hope for them –if she could find it in her heart to forgive him. It would take years to gain her trust; it would take him years more to feel like he’d earned it. All the while, the toasted thoughts of belonging filmed that hope like dew on morning grass. Like the night they met so long ago.

He breathed long and slow, forced his thoughts together again. His forehead pressed against the glass solidly, as if he could soak some of those last rays of hope through skin and skull. It was too much. The depth of them went on forever into his head. All this worrying was doing nothing for them and even less for his nerves. 

After all, wasn’t he Tuxedo Kamen? Wasn’t he the devilishly charming Chiba Mamoru? Who cares if she wasn’t drawn to him for those reasons, he’’d charm the hell out of her till she just couldn’t take it anymore! He’d hold her light up until there was no denying for anyone else that his Titan reigned supreme! He’d spoil her so damn rotten that any other man would pale, crumble, and turn to ash in her beautiful eyes! He’d lay waste to this horrific reality, this tortured, fear-drowned world and rebuild it in her image and she would know, as he knew……

He straightened, launching himself away from the window and out of his troubled thoughts. He still felt incapable of showing everyone else the true nature of his intentions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t start with the first step. One individual, in particular, would be the first beneficiary of his newfound resolutions. It was with that thought that he reached for his cell phone and dialed.  
.  
.  
…………………………….  
Butter colored light bled the front room dry, so thick and blinding that even photographs seemed nothing but glinting memories. The sticky, honey colored rays clung to the familiar items through the doorway, filtered through hair and skin, and seemed to warm the entryway by simply existing. It was false, lackluster, a lie. The heavy glow sat perched on the objects without a single thought of heat.

The blond trudged through. The sight of the front room seemed dispassionate despite the sunlight for some reason, left her thoughts trailing as she called a swift “I’m home!” into the house. Her bag was deposited in the rack, her shoes kicked from dainty feet. Within moments the living room crawled out from behind a corner even as her mother’s soft voice echoed the greeting. The words were lost, though, never to be found.

There, lounging along the couch as if he owned it, was Chiba Mamoru. The sight was so surprising that she didn’t even bother to return the words her mother had sent her. He looked good, as always, his unkempt black hair feathering across his forehead and catching the afternoon sunlight. He wore a loose, plain black button down, probably something meant for his internship, and crisp pants. She suddenly realized her mouth had gone dry and she was eyeing him like a chunk of meat in a grocery store. When her eyes snapped up to his face, he was grinning wickedly, obviously reading her thoughts.

The long, powerful body bunched together as he lifted himself from the sofa and all but stalked over to her side. Almost wildly, she noted how big he was, how he seemed to block out the sunlight from the front window, and how he could easily crush her tiny, scrawny little form like it was nothing. His finger brushed her cheek as he bent to lean a kiss against her forehead temptingly. He was the only one in the room for all she cared when those midnight dark eyes settled on her face again, impish grin both suggestive and sweet.

“Why don’t you go change out of your school clothes, ne Odango-chan? So I don’t feel like a pedophile?” the use of the hated nickname still rankled after all this time. 

“And why don’t you stop looking at me like that so I won’t feel like a skank, ne, Buta-kun?” He chuckled, flitting his eyes toward her very forgotten mother who seemed to be hiding her smile in the coffee mug. Usagi reddened a little, glancing back up at his haughty face accusingly and muttering to herself. “You are such a jerk.” 

“Only for you, Odango.” 

She rolled her eyes, quickly making her way toward the stairs and the safety of her room. What on earth was he even doing here anyway? And why hadn’t he called her first! Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought, wondering if he was trying to get himself killed by her father. And what had he been doing chatting with her mother! The idea of those two talking was like ice bergs and giraffes. It didn’t make any sense, what on earth would the topic be other than her!

Doubtful eyes scanned the emptiness for a moment, pondering what the two others had in common. Global warming? The thought had her snickering momentarily before she could remember the reason for the comparison.

 

Because Mamoru was…was just a jerk! And a bully! How dare he come over and try to charm her mother without even letting Usagi know it was happening! Even traditional boyfriends had to go through the awkward ‘meet the parents’ phase, and they weren’t even dating! And part of her would have so loved to watch him writhe beneath the searching glare of her papa! A delicious cackle spurted free at the thought, imagining a nervous and awkward chibi-Mamoru twiddling his thumbs while her shark-mouthed father bellowed.

It would serve him right! That pig! He spends all week acting like some sort of hero down at the Cown, kisses her hand and everything, and for what? It wasn’t like he’d kissed her the other day! It wasn’t like he’d done anything but tease her!

And why hadn’t he! Seriously, the guy does absolutely everything in his power to snag a date with her, now that he knew, and instead of roses and candlelight and all the mushy stuff, he’d taken her on some awkward hike! Well, so it was a beautiful walk through the woods, and he did carry her back to the car. But that didn’t excuse the fact that he was teasing her! Still! A low growl rubbed at her throat. Then to just leave her on the porch like a drowned puppy! She wasn’t so sure she wanted another date with him! What would it be this time: champagne with live lobsters on the plate?

The grumbling continued as she stomped down the hallway to the warm surroundings of her bedroom. She turned, closing the door with lightning speed as if to keep him out. Even that had her scoffing deep down, though, as she turned to view her room. The charming, knock-your-socks-off grin had been languishing on his disgustingly perfect face, which could only mean one thing: her romance novel-loving mama was currently being enchanted to no end.

The thought made her thunderous mood darken.

Sure, use it on Moon and use it on a housewife, but Usagi? No! Not that she wanted his delicious attention. Not that she wanted those intense, haunting eyes on her every second. No! She slid from the door, clenching her fists in rage at the thought. There was no reason not to march right back down that and knock him silly for treating her like that! Or maybe not treating her like that. Sky blue eyes glowered dangerously.

A silver box lay temptingly on her bed, shining in the afternoon sunlight like a gift from the heavens. The anger melted at the sight, replaced with a certain amount of childish curiosity.   
Warily, still miffed, the girl crossed the room, narrowly missing the slumbering cat at her bedside. The package all but begged to be touched, but even that seemed suspicious. Either it was from Mamoru, in which case it could literally hold anything from roses to spiders, or she had a secret admirer.

She snorted, lifting the box and tearing through the wrapper. If it was spiders, she’d make that cocky jerk come up here and chase every single one down. Not that their bickering had ever been so nasty, she amended at the thought. In fact, the bitterness most recently had been because of betrayal, a lack of trust. She shivered, taking a moment to quell the torrid memories. The feel of his lips on her neck hinted such pitiful, childish fighting would never be the threat again. She growled, elbowing the thought aside. Finally, the lid lifted free and the tissue paper was flung away. White teeth nibbled at her already sore lip as she stared at the gift in apprehension.

Obviously, the man had it out for her wardrobe. He’d made himself perfectly clear the night of the dance that something fishy had been going on with it. To her own horror, she had discovered the tell-tale instructions hidden within her mother’s sewing drawer yesterday morning. He had made an excellent point about his tux, though, and she hated admitting he was right. One glance in her vanity mirror showed a girl in a poorly fitting school uniform and a young face. He’d had a point about that, too.

It was hard admitting he was right. The guy was so insensitive! So what if she looked…like, 5 years younger than what she actually was. He, as some weird clandestine soul mate, should have been able to see through that like tissue paper! He should have just…known! This was not how fairy tales went; it was not how these kinds of things were supposed to play out! She lived and breathed a world of fantasy- well, maybe a world of horror- and it just…wasn’t….

A few tears slipped free as she turned to the mirror again. The rumpled folds of her uniform sagged, bagged and prodded in all the wrong places. She’d always assumed that every school uniform ever made had been like that, but Naru’s fit. It wasn’’t the most flattering piece, but at least it didn’t make her look ten. Mamoru thought she was beautiful; you didn’t just traipse around Tokyo in a tuxedo and top hat for some girl you didn’’t even like. You definitely didn’t shift your whole life around for a girl you couldn’t stand to look at. It all boiled down to that one fact: her clothes had hidden her in the guise of a child.

The uniform slid free, fell to the ground like a skin shed. The jerk had a few good points; and maybe he wasn’t as shallow as all that. After all, he had talked about much more than just the clothes that night on the side of the road. Their heated conversation brought feelings rolling to the surface, which she immediately pushed to the side.

Her eyes drew back toward the waiting box, tracing the soft lines as if it were some sort of bomb in need of diffusing. She smoothed the soft fabric thoughtfully, testing the sweetheart neckline with her forefinger. Even lifted to the sunlight, she couldn’t seem to find something wrong with the cute sundress; and the least she could do was try it on. She struggled through the contraption momentarily and slid the zipper home.

The sunshine yellow cupped snugly around the waist, accented with a tiny bow that made her smile despite herself. She turned to the sparse mirror, eyeballing it critically for any sign of perversity. The A-line skirt stopped barely above the knee and the neckline wasn’t too busty. She slid a fingernail across the eyelet pattern, touched the fabric with the flat of her palm. The girl in the mirror looked trim and young and beautiful, versus the drowned rat of a child in the school uniform.

Glowering, she realized she’d have to find something else to be bothered by, because despite Mamoru’s lack of personality, he did have pretty wicked taste in clothes.  
.  
.  
………….

The retreat back downstairs revealed her tormentor standing calmly in the entryway and her mother nowhere in sight. Apprehension chilled her to the bone just thinking about it, though the slight pang of relief at not having to show her the dress was a bonus. The thick, ebony black hair flicked upward, filling the space between with the midnight sky of his gaze. She froze on the steps, afraid a single move would break the strange truce between them.

“Where’s mom?” she asked finally, noting he’d taken his time to look her over. 

“I didn’t eat her, if that’s what you’re asking.”” He answered, sardonic smile tilting the corner of his mouth. She gulped, feeling the nervous tremble of her hands as he launched himself from the door and stalked across the room toward her. This was a mistake! Nervous jitters bounced and clanged in her stomach as his hand slid warmly around hers. “Ready?””

“For what,” came the quiet, albeit breathy reply. There were too many possibilities, and frankly with him this close, the steamier ones were rising to the top of the list. The previous frustration and anger that had so troubled the little blond minutes before popped like an overfilled balloon as he tsked and raised that hand to his lips. 

“Really, Odango?” he rumbled quietly, so close she could reach out and grab his shirt by the fistful. The young girl gulped, feeling the blush begin to fleck across her cheeks at the thought. His smile deepened, even as he stepped back and tugged at her hand playfully.

The shoes were thrown over her small feet even as the yawning sunlight stretched across the floorboards to the outside world. The harsh black outline of him broke the butter yellow glow in a perfect silhouette across the lines of his shoulders, his jaw. Something was different today. He was just as orderly, just as impassable as he had always been, and yet…. She stood again, eagerly fiddling with a strand of hair as he gripped her other hand. Early summer wind played within the golden bangs around her face as she stepped over the threshold and into the unknown. 

“I really like that on you,” he began, interlacing their fingers as they walked. The breeze smelled like lilac and fresh grass, so different from her unmemorable walk home from school. His touch on her fingers felt confidant and strong, nothing like the meek and nervous man he’’d been in the park. A shy smile began to spread across her face at how strange it all seemed, like a dream. “It matches your odangos.”

Icy fury slapped the growing softness from her face, stopped the girl short. He was laughing at her! Here, she’d been hoping that the otherworldly beginning of this date would be a stark contrast to the other, and instead he was already insulting her!

"Look, no matter how this falls, you really have to stop making fun of my hair!" she fumed, tugging back at his hold. Anger was easier than letting that fury, or worse, the sadness take her, especially when his warm fingers danced across her thumb. She forced herself not to look at him, not to notice how the wind lapped at his shirt, threw shards of night black hair into his eyes. This is how it would always be, her pulled along behind while he dictated every move! 

The shadows moved closer on the edge of her vision, the breeze pushing his spicy, inviting scent directly across her face. His fingers slid past her arm, sent butterflies twirling beneath the skin before delving into the soft, curling strands. Her heart boomed against the pathetic wall of her ribs, accented the rage with something equally hot, equally intense. She gulped.

"Don't worry; I consider it a biological imperative to keep it that way,” he smirked, pulling her gaze upward. “Seriously, no one just comes up with that nonsense." The words seemed like every other time they fought, but there was no hint of coldness. Intense cobalt eyes seethed openly, filled with longing and amusement and something deeper that seemed to call across the centuries. Heaven help her, but she felt her answer bubbling up like champagne from her chest to her head, filling her without permission. 

"So you will?" she asked quietly. His fingers deftly tucked around her head, cradled her closer. A thoughtful look crossed his handsome features, so close now she could see every minute detail of the change. The swirling midnight depths flashed to her twin buns. A teasing finger prodded at them from behind as he shrugged.

"Probably not, but at least it makes sense. I like your hair, and the style is just about as amusing."

She let out a strangled cry as the spell broke, spinning to stalk back into the house. Mamoru watched her go, noting almost absently that his fingers were tingling. It would take some getting used to, but he supposed the necessary time and experimentation could be enjoyable. He couldn't help the disturbed little chuckle that broke free before sprinting after her. The livid blond was trembling when he folded both arms around her, tugging gently away from the front door.

"We're really going to have to work on the flirting, aren't we?" he asked quietly, nuzzling his face into her hair. The warm vanilla scent was quickly becoming a favorite, laced with sunshine and happiness. He breathed deeply, allowing the exhale to waft across her neck and ear. Damn it, she was his; even if she didn’t know it yet! 

"That was flirting to you?" she guffawed. The girl spun, shivering, half way between rage and curiosity. "Don’t even try to tell me all the other times were too!" 

He let his arms fall to her waist, loving the curve of her hips perhaps a little too much. Those sapphire eyes were dangerously hard, her mouth a thin line of frustration. Rather than let his fingers do the talking, as he so would have loved to do, he settled one arm around her waist and led her back to the car. An amused grin stamped permanently across his features, though she tried not to look. Furiously, she reminded herself of hating how his fingers seemed to wrap around her hip with just enough pressure. 

"Would it count if I told you I thought of you more than any other girl ever?" he asked lazily, face still close to her ear. She couldn’t help the suspicious glare as he slid the passenger side door open before awkwardly settling into the seat. The door clicked shut while she nibbled nervously on her lip, twisting the folds of her dress in agitation while the enigma made his way around the vehicle.

"Depends. Was it positive?" she challenged finally, crossing her arms as if he had no effect on her. It was getting too warm, and the crack-frittered fairies dancing through her system were not helping at all. How was she supposed to remain cold and distant when he was just…freaking existing around her! The man should just go away! It was like Endymion, Mamoru and Kamen had all ganged up somewhere along the way to drive her mad.

It was too much temptation. 

"We’re getting there," he murmured, those same hot eyes burning through her as his seatbelt was fastened. The sudden purr of the engine nearly forced a squeak free as they slid into traffic. It had been so easy before when he was nervous and awkward and perhaps a little pathetic. The slick devil at her side was making it difficult to feel like she was still on the moral high ground, especially because he was finally using those moves on her! Usagi! As if she wasn’t just some kid with a crush on him!

“Where are we going?” she asked, feeling distrustful. It had been one thing, the other day, to be picked up by a nervous, awkward boy. There had been no threat, nothing but the anger and resentment of being trailed along like a drowned puppy for months. Even when they’’d parked alone in the trees, she knew he wasn’t trying to hurt her. Even now, she knew he wouldn’t try anything. But this new version of him, all magnetism and charm and practically dripping in sex appeal had her nervous for alternative reasons. Mamoru was a well known playboy, and she had no intention of being just another name on a long list.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled boyishly, rattling her previous thought into oblivion. 

“Oh.”

"So I'm pretty comfortable with the thought process in that head of yours, but how about you tell me about something you like." His question was casual, hardly the same intensity from the gaze that still threatened to force her heart out through her throat. She settled on staring at the car rather than him, it was easier to block out the attraction.

"Anything?" she queried, feeling childish and small in his beast of a vehicle. The shiny black interior slid in languid opulence like a black panther on a gold chain. The lines prowled across the dashboard, the backlit odometer. A nervous gulp itched at her throat; left her feeling, for lack of a better word, tacky. At least this trip she wasn’t wearing a home-made shirt.

"I won’t even tease you for it." 

His tone was all jaded laughter, but a single glance revealed soft eyes, a gentle smile. Chiba Mamoru seemed to be a man of many faces, and she’d only seen a few in their short, hurried encounters. Perhaps it was a bit naïve, but it seemed the cool upperclassman was genuinely interested in getting to know her. Of course, that thought made reason stare. Usagi was probably the least interesting person ever –after all, her hobbies included a side of fries and game tokens.

He’d tried so hard the other day. He’d been nervous, his hands clenching every time she looked at him. Every word from his mouth had been an inquiry, as if he just couldn’t figure her out. Too afraid to answer, she’d let them pass overhead. It didn’t matter. His interest was only in Moon. As much as it pained her to admit it, but building up her alter ego had had a much bigger effect on her than she realized. Hadn’’t she broken the bond between them? Perhaps there was more to Usagi than even she knew.

Maybe this new, strange mix of Mamoru was him thinking much the same.

"I really like Manga." The quiet voice betrayed no deeper thoughts, even as he risked a glance from the road. She was turned away again, her sunshine golden hair a subtle contrast to the yellow sundress. The tone warmed her skin from the inside, brought out the child-like beauty of her features touched with color. 

"That much was a little obvious. What about it do you like?" he pressed, hoping this time she would offer more than frustration or resentment. There was no hint of his firebrand, his lioness in the shifting, uncomfortable figure. This version of Usagi seemed so small, so terribly out of place despite her new clothing. The thought was ironic, so different from how he hoped it would make her feel.

"The art,” she murmured finally, glancing up at him as if to gauge his reaction. He smiled encouragingly, waiting for more from the once-chatterbox. It seemed, even faded in memories, she had always talked more, and louder. It made him wonder what it would take to see her like that again. Her eyes fell away again, as if it was too much to look at him. ““I like the way the people look."  
"That explains the style of your final," he replied, eyes trained to the road. It wasn’t exactly Rembrandt, but her swirling lines, and especially the eyes hinted at the comic books she purportedly loved so much. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought.

A thrill of awkward guilt swept through her form, made the goosebumps of her flesh stand out in warning. She rubbed at her skin thoughtfully, face scrunched up tight in humiliation. Of all the things he could have seen from that class, he had to choose that stupid picture. It brought back the hours of grumbling; sketching lines only to erase them again. The final had been the headshot of the class, begun late in the evening just a few days ago. She never should have put it off so long, but finding out you were royalty tended to take a chunk out of your homework time. As did passing out in the street, stressing over stupid Mamoru, and breaking some ancient soul bond like a twig.

It had been a busy week. 

"Oh...you saw that? 'Toki said he was doing the grading," Usagi muttered, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The leather squeaked with every movement, made the tense space between words seem more daunting.

"Actually it was the nail in the coffin. Without it, I never would have known for sure." her protector noted, tone cool again despite the confession. 

"What are you even talking about? It’s just a selfie with pencil," she gawked awkwardly, racking her brain for any reason that would be the case.

He grimaced at the word choice, knowing that picture was anything but slang. She must have spent a long time on it; the graphite sketched a ghostly halo around her face that seemed both appropriate and telling. Not that it mattered, but he’d made sure Motoki gave her full marks for it. After all, the assignment had been to show how you saw yourself, wasn’’t it? As he had seen straight through to the core, he felt it more than exemplified the requirements.

“You’d be surprised how easy it was once I was drunk. Really, this just tells me I should have gotten smashed earlier and gone for a walk.” The man grinned wickedly, knowing exactly what that would have caused. The second she’d come barreling into him and end up splashed on the sidewalk with those delicious legs everywhere, it would have been pretty damn easy. After all, only one girl could have a set like that: and she was currently out with him.

She blanched, thoughts traveling the less perverse side of the road. How it really would have ended up was her on her butt once again, staring up at his icy cold face. Even if he’d recognized her, it would have been with disbelief, anger, and perhaps even hostility. That was something she really couldn’t handle. Good thing all of this had nothing to do with her.

There was no escaping the past. Sure, Usagi was a kid with a crush, but Serenity was the last viable goddess on the planet capable of pretty much anything once they found the Ginzuisho. The few, confused memories of the Queen using the ill-fated gem were terrifying –and someday she’’d be called to do the same. The idea chilled her, spread from her chest deep into the core of things, and lodged over her heart like a scythe. 

Someday soon, she would have to face off against the dark queen, she would have to fight the force that even her mother couldn’t beat. The only clue they’d had to Beryl’s real intentions had been standing at her own deathbed, shaking, while the snake-like woman clawed and raged for her prince. A shudder slithered along her back, cold as ice.

With the power of the mythic stone, knowing Endymion only cared for Serenity, that Tuxedo Kamen and Chiba Mamoru only loved Sailor Moon, would she be able to master that power without twisting like that hag? Would she someday be the same terrible being bent on only one thing- the love of a man who literally couldn’t be bothered to see her for who she was? Could Usagi ever be so desperate, so lost?

“You must think I’m only doing this for her,” he whispered quietly. She was shivering, coated in thoughts much too dark for such a happy occasion. It didn’’t take much to read through her, though. Usagi had never been good at hiding her emotions. Even without the benefit of their bond, they were painting the inside of the cabin, coating everything with fear and disgust. Even as her darkened blue orbs shifted upward, the air laced with something hostile and venomous. “Usa……I never told you…”

“What?” she barked, wondering if all of her thoughts were so transparent. Mamoru didn’t even know her, not really. Yet, here he was easily picking through her brain as if the programming were right there on the dash. It was infuriating, especially knowing where those imaginings had brought her.

“That night in my apartment, I think I really saw you for the first time.” He glanced at her, noting the nervous white teeth nibbling at her lower lip and the fact she was fingering a lock of hair in her lap. She wouldn’’t turn to look at him, though, too busy staring into the abyss ahead. He turned forward again, afraid of the words that clawed through his mind. “There was so much depth to you. Before, you’d always been this ridiculous…kid. That night I saw who you would be. I wondered who else would see it too.”

He remembered staring at her dark, pain-filled eyes with wonder and a bit of sorrow. He remembered how she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, stared resolutely at the floor. The image had been there, in the back of his mind, so sharp and real that even the sound of rainfall on the balcony came back with clarity. He sighed, horrified yet again that his subconscious mind had been on to her from the start, memorizing and drawing in all the parts of her that he had not bothered with. It made him sad, just for a brief moment; that so much time had been wasted in the chase. If he could have just stopped long enough to think, it would have been obvious. It would have been the way things were supposed to be. No fighting, no bickering; just two people meeting and falling into sync like the soul mates they were.

“If Moon had never existed, I think things would have changed for us then,” he murmured finally, slowing to stop for a light. The engine purred between words as other shifting forms took their place outside the window. She twisted away from him, mind retracing that night as it had done many times before.

“Funny. The look I saw was definitely a no.” The bitter words were accusing, hurt. He turned fully, viewing the crossed arms and flushed face.

“Would you rather I be unfaithful?” he offered. The golden blond hair shimmered in the sunlight as she shifted. The resulting silence spread thickly across each of them until a soft horn blared from the outside world, reminded him of traffic. 

Her shoulders fell finally as the weight of the car pulled them forward. He made a good point, yet again. How would she have felt if he'd gone for someone else without thinking? But it wasn’t like he cared about Usagi at all! That was what really bothered her! It wasn’t like he’d bothered to look! 

Even as the angered thoughts rose to the forefront, though, she wondered back at how easily it had been to choose between Tuxedo Kamen and Mamoru. Right from the beginning, she’d eyed his superhero form with no small amount of desire. Even then, as her handsome tormentor became the impenetrable wall of her existence, the dark savior had faded to the background, never really thought of so long as she wasn’t in danger. She would have traded every encounter with the cheesy, rose throwing savior for one kind look from the beast.

Now here she was, riding in his car, his blue eyes no longer frozen. And he was telling her, no, begging her to open up. Not just that, but the gushy romantic hero was coming through the charm, so sincere and concerned and sweet that it made her chest ache all over again! And it wasn’t fair! He wanted to stay with her, he wanted to be there for her, and all she could complain about was that he wouldn’t cheat on her with herself!

“No,” she whispered suddenly, realizing all that he meant by it. Oh gods, she wanted to cry all the sudden. He couldn't actually make that kind of promise after one date, could he? Was she reading him wrong? Was she allowing her stupid, schoolgirl brain to fill in the blanks that weren't there? This wasn't a fairytale! She was almost seventeen and way too young to be thinking like this!

“I thought, right then, that you would be so beautiful all grown up.” His dark eyes grew soft and warm, even facing the road she could feel the sweetness lacing every word. For one blinding moment, the heartache and pain and fear that had plagued her vanished beneath that tone. All traces of mocking cynicism and guardedness had fled. 

He had seen her. All this time, she had felt so broken because he didn’t recognize what was so blatantly in front of him, but some part of him had. She drew a deeper breath, trying to remain calm as he spoke. It was too much to ask. Dazedly, she wondered if somehow this were a dream that would come crashing down the moment he stopped speaking. His voice was so warm, like sunlight in July, like Endymion's had been that night in her room so long ago. The shared feeling bled through a look, each side willing the other to take the conversation deeper.

“I was thinking about how much you reminded me of Moon.” The smirk returned, and with it, the rising burn in her chest. The sweet, emotional moment they'd shared shattered, but not without leaving a gentle mark behind. 

“You’re kidding,” she gave flatly, crossing her arms.

“I told you I was an idiot,” he replied, turning that sinful mouth upward in amusement. “What’s funnier, I was thinking about what a great princess you would be. Should have put money on it.” Her jaw dropped at the confession, feeling a little foolish for jumping to conclusions earlier. Maybe she hadn’t quite thought this all the way through yet. After all, if he could admit to something that personal and self-incriminating, perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. It didn’t stop the irritation from boiling through her thoughts, though

“And now you knew it all along. Seriously, Chiba? You’re going to play that game?” she screeched in agitation, though it was hard not to be a little amused. Mamoru, open and honest, was proving to be a bit of a handful.

“Never said that.” The grin grew lazy, the eyes sharpening as they flicked between the road and her. 

“You just did! I can’t believe you!” she balked.

“Are you intentionally misinterpreting?” he asked silkily, throwing out the slick smile as if to challenge her. The spitfire retaliated.

“But you just said!”

“I said I thought you were beautiful. Want to fight about that?” he interrupted quickly, lacing his words with steely sweetness. She blanched, feeling the wind suddenly sucked out from behind her. The thoughts in her brain swirled in confusion for a second, not realizing what he’’d meant by it.

“…no.”

It left them both quiet again, lost in a funk. The constant teeter-totter of their relationship was driving her slowly mad. First, he goes and gets all squishy on her and then he’s calling her beautiful? And to top it off, they were fighting again! A frustrated puff of air fingered her bangs as she settled back into her seat without another word. This was going to be complicated. This whole mess was probably complicated before the date had ever started, probably before the adventure began last summer.

Houses had given way to highway, which had quickly melted into downtown. The high-rise buildings grew fancier, more artistic as they drove. Considering their last date had literally been in the middle of nowhere, it was actually comforting to think there would be distractions this time. 

This was so natural. Even the other date had been confusing and unfocused, but in that shared instant, it had felt like their souls had touched. It had been brief, something that sent a spear of nervousness between his shoulder blades. He risked a silent glance her way, wondering if she felt it too. 

It was strange to share such deep, personal things. It had always been a burden, one he was normally unwilling to have with another person. His confession had shocked even him, that such a thought had passed his mouth seemed otherworldly. He retraced the quiet, contemplative face she’d offered in the midst of it all, and couldn’t help but wonder how much things really had changed.

The blond nervously slid white teeth across her lower lip, staring resolutely forward as if to avoid him. It was inevitable. He grimaced at the thought, wondering where the teasing hope of earlier thoughts had gone to. A steady breath drew his lungs taut before releasing. It would take some time, but there was plenty of that to go around.

“Look, this whole enslavement for eternity thing is really going to be rough on both of us.” The thought shattered their mutual silence, sent heaven blue eyes wandering his way. 

“Yeah.” She nodded, still a little lost. The clouded depths seemed confused, maybe a little hurt. 

“And I’m probably going to be a bastard most of the time when we first meet. It won’t mean much, but I’m sorry in advance.” They slid to a stop again, giving him ample time to look at his date. A nervous, almost guilty smile lit the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, I figured.” She shifted in her seat again, trying not to look at him. It was hard, because he was being so honest and forward. It was hard because what he’d done really was unfair and she really should still hate him for it. Mostly, it was hard because even that fire was slowly cooling as they spoke. It didn’t change the past, but it did make it obvious their future wouldn’t exactly be a repeat of bad decisions and mistrust. His warm hand closed over hers, his thumb caressing her arm gently. It called her back from the window, blinking as their eyes met again.

“I want you to know that you have taught me a lot in the past year. It might not seem like it right now, but you’ve changed me for the better.” Despite reservations and nervousness, his warm stroke was soothing. She felt the slip of muscles, watched as his fingers slid along her forearm and laced with hers as if mesmerized by the action. His touch was soft and familiar, as if their lives had always been this way.

It was beautiful, the way their fingers fit together, the way they fit. His aristocratic hands were long and slender, like hers. It was strange to think that those same hands could blow up Youma, wield a huge sword, and throw steel tipped roses. They were as multifaceted as their owner, and yes, it was entrancing to watch them slide across her hands, rest within her own fingers as if they could never hurt anyone. Clouded blue eyes blinked.

“Well, this is our second date. Which is odd, since technically we’re married. Before we started dating. This is going to give me a headache.” The girl tingled, felt the raw energy pulsing between their dual grip. She scratched between the odangos in confusion and perhaps a little arousal. A low rumble chuckled from his chest, filled the cabin with honey colored warmth.

“Are we gauging this on the previous marriage? If so, I greatly over-planned this. We could have just gone to my place and, you know…”

“Ma-Mamoru-san!” she screamed, scandalized and blushing to her toes. Her arm tugged away on reflex, and he instantly released his hold.

“Kidding!" The wolfish, hungry turn of his eyes spoke otherwise. She gulped, feeling a bit like a sheep trapped in his car. He was so close and the spicy sent of his cologne sizzled the air. Yet even as her fingers twisted together, even as they turned into a large parking lot, she missed that warm, tingling sensation. “Anyway, I figure it’s my turn to teach you something in return.”

It took a moment for his words to break through the haze even as they slid into a parking stall. Anxiety buzzed in her fingertips in tangible static and she found her thoughts drifting dangerously close to the volcanic past. This date was definitely a bad idea.

“Should I be terrified?” she whispered. The looming building had never been so intimidating with her friends. Of course, in retrospect she’d never felt like any of the Senshi were a tiger on a leash like the grinning man next to her. His mouth was positively evil, though his eyes conveyed a certain boyish charm.

“Only if you hate shopping. Lesson one: you are a knockout.” Those dark, hungry eyes flicked across her while she blushed.

“Um…don’t guys hate shopping?” she muttered finally, absolutely sure that particular fact had been brought up multiple times with classmates.

“I was a model, remember? Who do you think picked out that dress?”


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence in the most perturbing way. She blinked, staring at the thin red lace cloth drizzling over her form. Inches of her sunshine yellow sundress leaked through every open stitch, a fair reminder of how much would be showing otherwise. She flushed, smacking the arm away. “You asked what would look good, this is my answer.”

“I meant realistically, Baka! Like I’d wear that on the street.”

“No, you would not.” The swift, possessive comment left little room for argument as the piece was fluttered back into place. Shame burned her face at his tone, even as she turned to hide the blush. It was bad enough that he seemed incapable of being more than ten feet away from her thus far, but this particular turn of his cynical humor was doing nothing for her nerves. It was like being cooked in a pressure oven with him so close. She felt hot and leaden. Fumbling, the young blond all but buried herself in a rack of multi-colored pants before his strong hand smoothed across her abdomen. “But you could wear it other places.”

“Now, now Mamoru-baka! Seducing school girls is not good for your legal health.” She slid from his arms quickly, all but dancing to the other side of a table while she spoke. His laughing, strange eyes followed her, though a subtle little grin hinted at the corner of his mouth.

“Oi, legal health? Is that even a term?” 

Despite the threat, he was rather enjoying their little spat. Besides, who said things like “legal health” and actually meant it? He chuckled, wishing there was some way to record the ridiculous conversation for later. 

“I bet those guys in jail are riddled with all sorts of gross diseases.” She simmered, glaring at him over a pile of t-shirts. The tiniest little smile teased the edge of her mouth, though, and took the sting from her words. 

“Unbelievable,” he murmured, eyeing her as she turned away. Usagi had always wandered off in a huff at the arcade, but little did he suspect how deliciously those hips swayed when she did. The answering Cheshire grin was lost on her. “You’d be worth it. Besides, you’re legal –as long as daddy doesn’t press charges, anyway.”

“I’m sure he’d love to know you call him daddy.” Her answering call was loud enough the whole store could hear. 

Perhaps there was some strange part of him too horrified for words, but it didn’t seem to be bothered by the show. For someone as fiercely introverted as he was, such a scene should have filled him with dread, but the lusting eyes of other men, the wistful gazes of jealous girls filled him with a fiery cocktail of triumph and delicious superiority. 

It was wrong to feel so content in the despair of others. He’d read it somewhere.

It didn’t change the fact that every time those pert little pink lips whipped into action, it was all he could do not to pin the temptress down in a corner somewhere. The hysterically-animated girl drew attention without meaning to, pulled all eyes to her and left them there; all the while staring him down with ferocious singularity. 

The coiling pleasure rippled through his skin even as he prowled along behind, feigning interest in anything but the stunning woman. It was a façade, and they both knew it. The heated exchange of turbulent eyes clashed more than once from across the room.

On the surface, the blond could pretend her desires were for a simple, sweet man. In a way, he agreed. That momentary shot of honesty in the car had touched both of them, and she was responding to the taunts and jokes as easily as if they were fighting in the arcade. However, the moment the lights went out, and the world disappeared, he could read through those hot blue eyes like a children’s story, could see that her mind was busy doing things other than picking out clothes.

The idea warmed him. Yes, sweet and simple, and utterly devastating. That tension growing between them, the heated ambiance that laced every glance only led to one thing. The thought thrummed hot blood through his veins, turned the world off but for the two of them. The sly smile never left his face. 

Let the world see what was going on, because after today, Usagi would never dream of wanting someone else.  
.  
.  
…………………………..

“When hell freezes over,” he growled, watching her prance around with a lavender button-up intended for him. The wicked glint in her eye was all mischief.

“I’m telling you: girly, painful lavender purple –with that stupid mask!” The gleeful, predatory sparkle of her eyes sure tried to be superior. The grinning woman was pushing the boundary for all she was worth, and it was taking every inch of self-control, and self-preservation, to set one.

“No.” He snatched the ugly thing from her hand, quickly depositing the disgusting piece back on the rack. At the sight of something so hideous, he had balked and sent worried glances around the store in the event they’d walked into something gender ambiguous by mistake. Maybe a man would wear it –if he was a masochist. And maybe it would look better in a different fabric –as long as it was a different color. 

Usagi had leapt on the moment of confusion with all the finesse of a dying hippo.

“What if I beg and plead and cry?” she whimpered, pulling her hands in front and allowing ever-present tears to form. He groaned, looking away from the picture and hating that the twinge in his chest sparked in response.

“Are you trying to emasculate me? It’s really not okay to do that in long-term relationships.” The throbbing of his skull began somewhere close to his left eye. Tired fingers rubbed the spot absently, wondering how she’d talked him into trying clothes on too. It was just like Usagi to try to push attention back on him; she was too aware of others to be healthy. 

“Who said it was long-term? I’m just here for the handouts.” He stopped short, glancing up at the mischievous grin long stamped on her face. Her eyes were shimmering like sunlight, her smile contagious. That same answering warmth blossomed in his chest, forced the muscles of his face upward despite himself.

“Didn’t you get the memo? It’s a give-take relationship, darling. I give and I take.” He prowled closer, itching to touch her and feel that happiness soak through him.

“Oh? And what, exactly, were you planning on taking?” Her golden eyebrow arched in defiance, the soft cotton folding against her form with the help of crossed arms. This vision stopped him short. He was staring helplessly at the front of her dress, loving the bob of her body as a foot tapped the ground. “Pervert.”

A wolfish grin lounged at the corners of his mouth as the beauty turned away. The girl could say what she liked, but the heated blush was sliding beneath the neckline at her back. Delighted, yet wary, he stalked after her.

Fingers trailed through rose-colored gauze as she walked. The soft fabric clung to her hands in yearning. It was like looking at a classy, modern princess dress, all sweetness and flowing lines. Close enough to her mother’s work that it would take no great stretch to wear it comfortably, yet refined and beautiful.

“I had no idea you color-coordinated your clothes to your room.” His mocking voice slid like smooth caramel over her thoughts, coated her into a dream world as she turned. “It’s just that…Pepto pink thing you’ve got going on there.” He smirked, and the sinful mouth twisted like a knife.

“Look, would you just drop it? I like pink! So sue me!” she huffed, even as he snagged the dress in her size. She tried to back away as he did, but met with the soft push of another rack from behind. It seemed even the store itself had ganged up on her today.

“I’m not against it, mind. Let’s just not bring that tradition into the house.” He flicked those blue eyes her direction, that mouth so quietly amused it had the audacity to pluck at her chest. Why, why did he have to be so tempting! The quiet anxiety was slowly sucking the life out of her and replacing it with something else…

“What’s the matter, Mamoru? Afraid you’ll come home to pink drapes?” she challenged, more fire than she really felt in the tone. He was doing his composed, standoff-ish thing, and for some undeniable, irrefutable reason, it was beckoning her closer.

“And bed sheets and tablecloths and towels. Yes.” He continued the line as if the fear was more of a reality than anything else. A grin slipped across her mouth momentarily before she could replace it again.

“Well, maybe I will!” 

“So…this is a long-term thing.” He grinned, loving how her defiant features shifted into panic. A dark chuckle broke from his chest as she backpedaled visibly. To think, a year ago he had no idea what he really wanted from her. There had been plans to date her, the vague sense that she would be exclusively his. 

But this was so much better. It was like having a mental sparring partner you constantly had to fight the urge to ravage. 

“Shut up! I didn’t say that,” she screeched, but her anger was nothing compared to the mirth glowing from her eyes.

He’d always rather enjoyed their fights in the past. From anyone else, those decibels would be obnoxious at best, but from her…well, she’d always had a slight pass. Frankly, it was a wonder to him that things hadn’t gone this direction earlier. There was always their history, and the whole superhero thing to factor in, but he found himself wondering how long it would have taken them if there had never been Moon and Kamen. 

Well, there was no time to waste on that when she was spinning right in front of him, her sunshine hair brushing against his hand. His long, deft fingers flickered through a tail, following her to the next rack.

“What exactly are you saying, then?” he all but purred silkily, leaning in close to her ear. She shivered.

“I’m saying…that I’m hungry all of a sudden!” 

He sighed, turning a care-worn face toward the heavens in mock piety. The girl spun and fumbled as her legs gave out, tripped against a turntable leg, and landed in a heap of golden cotton and hair. 

The laughter burst from him, wholly and heartily, as he gripped at his sides and wiped desperately at the tears. Of all the times in the world this girl could suck tile! 

“I swear, Usagi-chan, you are a walking disaster.” The comment broke between fits of laughter and heavy breathing. Hesitantly, she reached up to take the proffered hand, a smile tugging at her mouth. Despite the shame burning on her face, even she had to admit, it was pretty funny. “How’s your head? Any horrible concussions?”

It took a moment to right herself again, but the jibe was just too cutting after face-planting down the side of a mountain. The shame of that memory flared against her skin as she stepped forward.

“Baka!” she spat back, slapping his chest playfully as a pout turned her lips down. He was grinning boyishly, his demeanor so relaxed and informal it felt like just the two of them in the whole store. “Maybe you’re the cause of all my klutziness!”

The accusation hung for a second before both burst into laughter again.  
.  
.  
………….

“Don’t even think about it,” he whispered. She jumped, nearly dropping the hanger in surprise. The short fabric was quickly gripped from her hand and returned to the rack.

“And here I thought guys like you enjoyed the miniskirt.” The snippy reply came back just as quickly, as she’d done all day, meeting him head on and without hesitation. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t as utterly pleasing as it seemed. 

“On you? Hell yes. I’m just not fond of other men feeling the same way.” Both hands stuffed into his pockets casually, though the feeling raging up in his chest could only be described as murderous. It was all fine and good until he caught some young idiot eyeing her like a bar of chocolate. His hands clenched painfully within their cotton hold, but his features stayed schooled.

“Are you jealous, Mamoru-baka?” Her arms folded in at the words, a trail of hair leaking over her shoulder as she turned to glance back at him. A golden eyebrow had arched curiously and her eyes were sparkling again. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess Usagi liked it.

“I have my reasons. Look, I’m just starting on this whole good-guy path. I make no promises if I see some punk getting a little too friendly.” He shot her a grin that was all teeth, only to find his gorgeous date seething again.

“Since when do you get to dictate what I wear?”

“Since I’m buying,” he flared in response, irritated that they were still discussing it. Did she really not realize how men looked at her normally? One glance around the mall would reveal more than a few lustful stares and probably a lake’s worth of drool, and she wanted to show off those legs? 

“You’re so charming! What a lady-killer,” she muttered, shaking her head in irritation. Seriously, who did he think he was? The girl spun, stomping away from the conversation before she really exploded in his face. It didn’t even matter that her mother would never let her out of the house in one; he didn’t need to know that!

An arm snaked around her ribs and yanked back until she was flush against him.

“I was going for honesty. But if you’d rather, I can do charm.” His fingers threaded through impossibly long locks of hair, trickling down one arm. He was so close that his hot breath on her neck almost left a scar. She gulped, feeling the magma haze drip through her as he pressed long, sensual kisses to her neck and shoulder.

“Hey, you two! I’m going to have to ask you to leave!” The voice of an older woman crackled through the din. Each froze in an instant, Usagi turning to stare over his shoulder in open-mouthed horror as the grandmotherly woman began ushering them toward the exit. The clothes were left in a pile on an island and the stern glare of the salesperson followed them. Even Mamoru had the decency to redden around the ears, though his hand never left her side as they exited.

“So…let’s shoot for honesty,” she muttered, trying to ignore the hot confusion sizzling beneath her skin.

All he could do was laugh. The next store opened up around them, clearly oblivious to the previous run-in across the hall. Within the first few moments of entering, however, the sunshine golden hair whipped around and Usagi’s determined blue eyes met his like a bear trap.

“Let’s just get one thing perfectly clear before this goes anywhere,” she hissed, seething and angry and confused all at once. “I am not one of your call-girls. This is not some freakish lead-up to a porno. You will not try your little moves on me, or that will be the end of this.”

“Oi, that’s a bit unfair. Can’t I even tease you about it?” he murmured, coming within a breath’s distance of her. She tried not to gulp nervously, staring up at his face while her heart thrummed heavily. The memory of his mouth on her skin scarred her thoughts, froze the words she would have loved to throw in his face.

“No.” It came out much more defiant that she felt. The single word had his eyebrow arching, his soft lips pursing downward. Her hands twitched and jerked; both aching to grip his face and pull him down to her level or clasp behind her back in chaste horror. He seemed to sense the struggle, leaning down so it was so much easier. All it would take was a tilt of her little feet to catch those lips….

“When did you get to be such a hard-ass?” the breath wafted across her mouth, made the other shoppers feel eons away. There was just him and his burning cobalt eyes. She blinked quickly, tried to force her thoughts back into place. They’d just been kicked out of the last place for doing things like this!

“When you decided to take a comment as a challenge,” she replied pertly, turning away from him. The deft move blocked all of him but the scent and the steady, radiating heat beating against her back. Safely turned away now, she let her traitorous eyes slide closed, drew in a breath of his cologne. That delicious spicy musk was enough alone to twist and distort and practically own her.

“Oh. So can I take this as another challenge?” the dizzyingly smooth voice dribbled across her form like a living creature. He bent, close enough to send his breath smoldering across her neck. She shuddered, feeling the coil begin low within her. Hangers clacked within her arms, clothing swished as she shied a little further away. He wanted to play seducer again. Well, she had an answer for that if he thought he could get away with it!

“Forget it, Mamoru-baka! The only man I’ll ever sleep with is my husband.” The fiery comment slid from her mouth long before her brain had any say. The sumptuous chuckle rattled in her bones, made her flesh shiver. Even her face, which before had been turned away in some mock show of defiance, came back toward him. The rough pads of his fingers brushed her jaw, tilted her head just enough so his lips could flutter across the exposed ear.

“Consider it done.”

That molten, glorious burn belched upward like rage, like hope. She almost choked on the cough, on the hollow yearning growing deep within. His fingers against her face, that sizzling warmth at her back smoked through flesh and form, drew her closer. A hot breath clung to the insides of her throat. His thumb traced a small circle in her cheek that seemed to make that aching void yawn wider.

A shiver trembled across her skin, broke the porcelain into gooseflesh. His breath teased the outer shell of her ear; the sound of air hissing from his throat so comforting it nearly forced tears to her eyes. Another moment of this delicious torture and she’d be turning around, clutching to his shirt like a lust-crazed drug addict and sealing that heat with more than looks. 

The strong pressure of his other hand slid across her stomach, wrapped around one hip while the rest of her fell flush against him. It was horrible torture; rather than let those hands wander as they would, the man actually had the gall to just hold her. His thumb still pressed to the side of her face, the fingers wrapped around her skull as if to guard her.

All the while, she retraced those words with every sense of foreboding, of longing. He’d promised her something once before–perhaps had used those very words. Sapphire blue slid up from the floor, clashed headily against warm cobalt and clung helpless in the shared gaze. There was something terrible and irresistible about his thoughtful, deep eyes; the way his mouth seemed to tug at the corner. Like she was some secret he preferred keeping all to himself.

“You, uh,” he cleared his throat; the only sign that she’d affected him just as much. “You should try this one.” He gestured to something in her hands, pulling quickly away. His eyes were kind, though, when he turned back to press a kiss to her forehead. The feel of his soft lips on her skin had her grinning despite all previous attempts at being angry with him.   
.  
.  
………….

She smiled foolishly, slipping each strap over her shoulders and sliding the zipper into place. There was a sparkle to her, like the burnt out bulb had been replaced when she wasn't looking. For a spare second, the girl spun within the confines of her changing room, loving how the new pink dress flirted across her thighs.

The grin echoed back through the changing room mirror, taking with it the dark circles, the worry and heartache. Even in the childish daydreams in class, she hadn’t expected they would get along so well together. That attraction, that warmth billowing up in her chest wasn’t the insistent, rough pull of a bond she had no choice in. It was as true, as honest as she had wanted it to be from the beginning. This was so much more fun than she had originally assumed, too, especially for how bad the last date was. 

The changing room door fell open beneath her hand as she thought. At least now they were laughing and joking, he was teasing her without being cruel. The thought brought every other up short by the reigns.

He looked stony; as if he were back to being the block of ice she'd known a year ago. It froze the turbulent thoughts crashing through her skull like laughing children. The bubbly light touch hit against her conscience as if it had been a rock through glass. The uncomfortable feel of gooseflesh crawled along her arms and legs, because the villain shone through at the touch of a short blond girl.

"Ne, Mamoru-san, call me next week! I'm ready...."

The flash of uncomfortable irritation nearly didn't break the mask, but Usagi was watching all too closely. His face, usually so impassive and empty, held the tiny increments of contempt she’d grown so accustomed to at the Crown. This short blond girl was latched to his arm, coated in the store uniform, and batting her eyelashes for all she was worth. It took a moment for the strange feeling crawling between her shoulder blades to find a name.

It was annoyance.

But Mamoru caught her eye again, and she watched as the ice melted, as his mouth hung open, and the other girl was completely forgotten at his side. For that one, bare moment, she could see the furnace kick in, could almost hear that telltale rumble of approval as he stalked toward her.

"Have you seen it yet?" he murmured, so close to her ear now she could feel the heat billowing across her skin. A firm hand tugged her elbow till they were both facing the mirrors side by side. That coldness she’d seen moments before was gone, but not the store clerk watching through saddened eyes behind them. He didn’t seem to notice their audience, but it was all Usagi could see for the moment. "Maybe I could go for more pepto."

 

Her eyes finally left the blond girl to lock against her own image. But there was something new growing within her, something born of that poor girl’s frustrated look of desperation sinking into despair. Because she wasn’t just Usagi with a little school girl crush. She wasn’t just desirable because she happened to be a Senshi or because of her heritage.

An impish grin answered the breath of confidence filling her lungs, his openly lustful eyes.

"I give you heart burn?" she cackled. The sound ricocheted in the small store like gunfire, out of place and vibrant and charming. He grinned, shaking his head into the flesh of her neck while trying not to laugh.

"Wow. Ugh, that was horrible." He was smiling and suddenly she couldn't remember why she'd been so annoyed moments before. He pressed himself along her back, stroking her hip with his fingers as they gazed into the mirror side by side. There was something intrinsically beautiful about the lines of their faces, the shape of them in combination that seemed inhumanly beautiful. She'd heard others say that a couple looked good together, but that brilliant contrast between the two of them seemed to escalate into the realms of supernatural.

His fingers brushed the side of her mouth, but he didn’t move to kiss her. The strong hand at her waist didn’t wander, didn’t push or invite. He was content and his smile was so beautiful and open and honest. Those deep, beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners; true, honest and actually happy. Her breathing hitched, caught on the lump in her throat. He was looking at her.

No, he was looking at her. 

"Usa..." he whispered urgently, trying to keep his hold on her hips as she dove back toward the changing room. The tears were already leaving heavy streaks down her face and she couldn't force the air back into her lungs no matter how she leaned against the door and fought. Her fingers fumbled with the latch uselessly, the clicking mumble of the door all she could focus on past the sound of his voice bleeding through.

The mania was crawling up through her chest and throat while she struggled, fighting back the sobs that didn’t make sense. Though he called through the barrier and although he was pleading with her to come back out, to come stand beside him, she couldn’t bear the thought of doing just that, because it meant….

She shuddered, hiccupping deep in her chest till it felt like her bones were giving way beneath the pressure. The tears were falling harder now, as she huddled into a stall and crouched into the corner. What was wrong with her? It was one thing to get angry at him, another to think he was a waste of time, but…but the second that he actually cared; all she could do was run away.

It was all she’d done this year. Yes, she pretended to get stronger, to fight harder, but what did that mean when he called her a pet name, when he held her so close she felt like she was suffocating?

She fumbled through the subspace pocket, looking for nothing in particular. Her fingers brushed the communicator and instantly recoiled. What would the girls say of her predicament? She’d gotten herself into it, like she always did. It was time to be a big kid and get herself out.

The sleek cover of her new phone slid against her thumb. She stilled, gripping the object to pull it free. She’d tried not to look at it before, too embarrassed at such an expensive gift, and perhaps fearing what he meant by it. The baby pink case sparkled in the half light as the dim bathroom lights caught against white gems.

They formed a tiny crown across the top of the case, swirly and cute and completely and utterly Usagi in every way. It just made the tears fall harder. It just made the ache in her chest expand beyond reason. Things like this weren’t anomalies, per se. They were just him assuming anything cute and girly would be close enough. She was a book to most people: easy to read, everything on the cover. He didn’t know her! This was all just an elaborate game to get him exactly what he wanted in the moment. 

The sobs were subsiding. Her fingers slipped across the face of her gift, wishing she’d at least had the sense to give it back to him before running off. Now, she’d have to face him after that last ridiculous outburst–again–and hand this back. 

The tears burned her hot face as she stared downward, watching the screen come to life. It must have been a factory preset, but the swirling night sky hid behind the many icons gracing the home page. She sniffled, flicking through the apps thoughtlessly for a few moments before finding the dial screen.

The girls teased her about knowing their numbers by heart, but the skill sure came in useful at a time like this. As the tone hummed, and the silence of the girls changing room closed around her, she felt like everything was made of plush velvet. It was like the store had closed around her tiny room to give her time to think, to figure out exactly why she was sobbing and why she’d locked herself away.

“Moshi moshi!” The familiar tenor voice crackled through a bad connection and suddenly her nerves didn’t feel so frazzled. A stuttering sigh fell from her mouth before the words could come out.

“Ohayo, Onee-san.” She hiccupped again, gripping her forehead. Heaven blue eyes closed finally and she felt her breathing start to regulate again.

“Oi, Usagi-chan? Are you crying?” Motoki’s voice was garbled, the homey sounds of the arcade cushioned his words till they were muffled and distorted. A loud ping echoed through the earpiece, a sure sign someone had gotten the better of the crane machine again.

“H-hai.” Another ding marked a level-up for a Sailor-V fan, followed quickly by screaming. They must have finished up repairs in time for the afternoon rush.

“Is everything ok? Where’s Mamoru?” 

The question hung between them for a moment, while she traced a pattern into the smooth wall with a finger. For that one, aching moment, she wished she’d gone out with the girls instead. They could have had a movie marathon or gone gaming or shopping….

“I didn’t want….” The words plugged harsh in her throat, one hand gripped at her throbbing forehead. What? Everything he offered? Even the memory of his hands on her made her skin break in gooseflesh; they’d laughed and flirted for nearly two hours at this point, if her phone was set up right. His cynicism had been charming and those hot blue eyes glued to her every second as if he couldn’t help it as much as she couldn’t. 

“Oh.” Motoki’s voice crackled over the phone, and she started harshly. Her wandering mind had taken her someplace else the past few minutes. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” She felt like a petulant child even saying it.

“…So, it was a bad date?” he pressed quietly. 

“Well no.” She sighed again, wiping at another stray tear. It was hard to imagine that just a few minutes earlier, she’d been thinking how wonderful it had all been, remarking to herself how well they seemed to get along. Her mind shuddered away again, carried off from the painful thoughts toward oblivion. Everything in her yearned to just space out into a daydream where everything was perfect and the real world didn’t exist anymore.

“You’re going to have to use your words, Usagi-chan. I’m not so good at mind reading.” The reprimand was given as gently as he could muster, but she winced at it anyway. 

“I just…he….” She gulped, forced the words forward no matter how they stung in her throat. “He’ll just hurt me, Onee-san. I can see it and I can’t….” She was shaking. Even the fingers biting into the skin of her neck seemed to tremble.

“Aw, Usagi-chan! Is that why? You’re scared?” She grumbled something pathetic and unintelligible in the following quiet. “Being scared is ok. Letting it drive you isn’t.” 

“Ne?”

“Usa, if you’re not happy with him, then that’s fine. You’re a big girl, you know what you need to do. But if you’re just scared to try, you might miss out on something really good.” Usagi drew in a deep, labored breath, leaning her head back until it hit the wall of her cocoon with a solid thump. It made sense and she hated her older brother for pointing it out. These fears had plagued her for so long that it just seemed silly to talk about it now. “Besides, aren’t you like a champion of love or something?” The question was whispered conspiratorially, probably hidden behind both a hand and a grin.

“’Nee-chan!” She couldn’t help her answering smile from leaking through, though she hated it. 

“Have you had fun?” the manager asked quietly, now that the sounds of the arcade had disappeared from behind him. Quietly, the events of the evening were retraced in detail. He had been focused on her right from the start, had teased and goaded and had shared moments with her. She gulped.

“Hai.” There was a slight pause at the thought of them standing side by side. It hadn’t been some broken little girl with a hopeless crush, it had felt like equals. Partners. Even the thought of that, though, had her heart jumping again, had her fears crashing down around her like weights from a high shelf. “He’s being really charming. He’s never been like that, though.”

That bothered her too, because he couldn’t be both. Not unless he was putting up a front, not unless he was lying about one or the other. 

“Oh, I beg to differ. Mamoru-kun is quite the charmer when he wants to be.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she groaned in response, hating that the tears kept falling even now.

“You think he’s faking it?” He seemed to pause for a moment, sighing away from the mouthpiece. She could almost see him lean against a wall, rubbing the back of his head like he always did when something bothered him. “Usagi, he really does love you. He’s broken and messed up–there’s no denying that he may never be normal like you and me. But you should know how he looks at you, how he talks about you.”

“But I’m the Odango,” she interjected, feeling the rush of fear pummel her chest again. She was flushing, trying to hide her face though no one was around to see it.

“Hai, you know, I think he really likes it? You should have seen his face with that little boy.” The manager chuckled lightly and cleared his throat. “Usa, it’s not my place to say, but I think you should give him a chance. I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Yeah, but you’re his best friend,” she volleyed, knowing even as the words left that it was useless. Because it wasn’t like Motoki’s word was law, and she could still walk away from this. 

“I’m yours, too.” It was, however, how much she loved and respected her brother to take his words under serious consideration.

But she didn’t want to face him, not after running off and locking the door behind her. Not after calling his best friend for help. Again, she retraced the events of the evening; saw those smoldering blue eyes staring at her, like he couldn’t look away. As much as she wanted to pretend like she was the strong, invincible super hero, right now all she felt was stupid and childish. All she could hear was the drivel of his fan club’s latest article, the bitter claims of college girls. She shuddered.

“Do you think I could get a ride, ‘Toki-chan?” the girl murmured quietly, almost hoping he couldn’t hear her. It was true. Everything he said was completely true. 

“I’ll come if you want.”

She didn’t answer. The alien trinket in her hand could mean salvation from a world of confusion, pain and misunderstanding, but all she could do was press the hang-up button instead.

"I tried to tell him before." The familiar rumble of his voice practically burned through the door. She jumped, cursing under her breath as the pile of clothes and hangers hit the floor with a clang. The phone slipped from her fingers, but fell against the soft cushion of clothing as she ripped the thin partition open.

He was standing a few feet down the hall, close enough to hear her pathetic phone call. His shadowed eyes were downcast, mouth open and twisted. It didn’t matter that they weren’t connected anymore, because his pain was so tangible she could almost touch it. It felt….

It felt like her; like he was bleeding from the same wound, like he echoed everything back from her. The thought made her blood chill, because he was turning away. 

"Mam...moru...." She stepped forward, fear locking her jaw in place. He wasn’t supposed to hear! A part of her had known he’d just been talking through the door, but her stupid, spacey brain had conveniently scrubbed the fact free.

"You broke the bond. I should have taken the hint."

"Wait! I'm sorry, it's just that...."

"Stop, Usagi-chan. You don't owe me an explanation.” He flicked a wrist her direction as he turned, murmuring to himself as he went. "You don't owe me anything."

"I'm sorry," she had; she’d broken their bond because it was a curse, because it took away her will to fight, to live on her own terms. He didn’t realize it yet, but she was sure that sometime soon, just down the road for them, he’d realize what a huge mistake he’d made. Why he would ever want to be latched to her still left pools of doubt lingering in her mind. He didn’t know it yet, but she may have saved both of them lifetimes of heartache and regret. “I just wanted a chance to choose.” The tears began to fall finally. “You took that away from me, but it was mine.” Didn’t he see how much she was trying to do for him? How deeply she did care because she was willing to cut the cord and let him go? “Do you know what it’s like, Mamoru? Loving someone and only seeing the bad? Wondering why you care at all when all they do is hurt you?”

He said nothing. She was right on all points, yet again. It was difficult to have this thrown back in his face, especially after everything that had happened the last few weeks. His fumbling hands found the pockets at his waist and hid there, his eyes latched to the floor. 

“And then this.” She waved a hand erratically at their surroundings, big and bright enough to pull his gaze up again. “One minute, you’re tearing me apart and the next I feel like a princess.”

“That was kind of the point,” he interjected quietly. 

But did it really matter? She’d been talking to Motoki, his best friend, and wanting a ride home so she could get away from him. It was ironic and funny, when he sat back to consider it. They’d had fun, and maybe he’d gotten a little suggestive, but for a second there he almost believed she enjoyed it as much as he did.

The man peeled himself off the wall he’d been leaning on and turned away. It was likely that Motoki was already on his damn way, white knight complex and all, to save the poor girl from him. She should have just said things were too broken.

"No, please! I just don't know who you are!" 

A hand gripped his arm and stopped him cold. Usagi was still wearing that beautiful pink dress, her face lit from within and tears shining. His words stuck on a plugged throat. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to apologize for, so much to make right. If anything, though, the exchange could only prove how useless it was to try.

"That's why people go on dates, Usagi." 

The ghostly whisper was given with monotone indifference, as if he could make it sound as futile as it really was. She didn’t understand him, and worse, she didn’t want to. It felt like hell freezing over his rib cage, that suckling river tearing in the back of his mind. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want him.

"I know!" 

A jerk from her hand stopped his retreat again, though the weight of tears burdened his eyes. The subtle knife of uncomfortable loneliness dug into his back while he fought the urge to shake her off. She’d just said he wasn’t good enough, what the hell else could she say more? 

"I know, Mamoru. But, but...what about when it stops?"

“Complete sentences, Tsukino-san.” He sighed, reaching up to rub at his weighted eyes. It was never hard to stop the tears from falling, except when she was around. It was like she had a highway straight into him and it killed. The smoking gun left a bullet hole through his chest, the uncapped wound of the broken bond at his side, the vicious burn of the thought of her. She didn’t make any sense! And the worst part was that it didn’t matter at all because he could feel the slow budding of his heart freeze cold and wither away. 

"I'm not a toy. You keep saying this is all for me, but it’s not! I think secretly, it’s for you. For your pride." But the words weren't laced with anger or venom. She hiccupped, felt the cool air conditioning streak along her face where the tears had fallen. "When you're all done with me, they'll say 'serves you right, Usagi, you knew he'd cheat on you.' But I'll just...."

"Cheat? Gods, with who? With what?" The thought of it boggled his mind. Is this what she’d been scared of all along? Who the hell else in the world came close? "This is what's been bothering you? Of all the stupid, nonsensical…."

"It's not nonsense! I don't want to get hurt!"

"And what? That's my main goal? I didn't work my ass off for years just to trip at the finish line!" The irony of their situation was not lost on him. The blond was freaking out over not being given a choice, over being forced into something that would only end badly in her mind. Yet he was being shoe-horned into some ridiculous preconception based on word-of-mouth and obvious hearsay. And rather than talking out this fear with her, he was yelling back just as loud in a public area. He groaned. "Which is what I'm doing." Tired hands assaulted his face as he turned slowly away. She made him so mad sometimes! And it didn't even matter, because it was obvious this would be a scar for them forever.

"You know what? Just...forget it." He turned momentarily, thought twice, and looked back in time to see her sniffle adorably. The anger simmered down low in his chest, enough that he could school his tone and not hurt her. “Just so you know, Usagi, I have never cheated. Not once. You shouldn't believe everything you hear. Just because I didn't call someone back doesn't mean I did something wrong. I wasn't interested."

"And all of this? Isn't it some elaborate scheme to get me into bed with you?"

"Oh, heaven help me," he murmured, close to exploding. This whole day was completely pointless. He had wanted to get to know her better, make her feel comfortable and open around him, and all it had done was shutter her back into where they’d been all year. It was like watching their fights on instant replay and it forced her angered words through his brain like a screaming engine. It was pointless.

Everything was.

"It sure as hell didn't have anything to do with making you feel good!" The raging words burst from his mouth, even as despair settled cold within his chest. She wanted a fight; a reason to never speak to him again. He could give her that, at least. “Yes, I’m the bad guy, Tsukino-san. You thought it was the freaks out killing people in the street, but really, it’s me. Because I’m the liar, the one who only wants you for what you can give me!”

It didn’t matter. He didn’t. Suddenly, he felt that weight in his chest lifted just a bit because Motoki was already on his way and he and Usagi would leave his life for good, just like everyone else. He could be alone, in his car, on the road, where he belonged. No one needed to know him, because he knew himself. No one needed to be with him because he had always been the one to stand on the sidelines and watch, wait, and figure things out on his own. 

Little did Usagi know that he’d done just that with her all year. With a twisted sort of self-mockery, he let the last barb fly, throwing the blame and pity right back at her.

"Did it ever occur to you that I just wanted a date? Gods! And I’m the broken one!" The changing room door slammed shut again and the wetness finally fell from his eyes. The man turned, pressed his lips to his fingers and then touched the door with all the reverence and love he felt burning through him.

Take this, Usako, he thought, and run like hell.

He was walking away, letting that door close like the one she’d just slammed in his face. The rough calluses of his hands rubbed at his eyes and face, irritated that they were in public of all places while the tears were falling. He wiped at them fruitlessly, knowing even as he did that she would be the only person to ever inspire such a deep, aching reaction straight from his gut. But it was okay because at least knowing that meant it would never happen again. Ever.

The quiet man found a corner of the store to lurk in while she changed. Though the likelihood of her even wanting a ride from him after that last comment was pretty low, he wanted to make sure she got home safe. 

Which was stupid. He was on a date with the one girl he probably didn’t need to worry about getting mugged on the way home. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her take out a gang single-handedly just last week. But the idea of her ever getting hurt made his whole body tremble because she was so sweet, so funny, so fiery….

“Whore queen!” The clatter of broken racks slammed against a wall. The screech of bending metal careened through the small shop like a sonic boom. Bodies hit the floor instinctively, the telltale signs of a city now used to danger. Mamoru jumped from his corner, eyeing the courtyard as a bench flew past. Shattered glass shards smoked the air around them as the window blew in. The jagged form lurched unevenly through the rubble, heavy sword swinging from an awkwardly-high shoulder. 

A burst of energy exploded from behind, painting the world silvery white as the stalls fell like dominos to the ground. The huddled masses breathed a collective sigh as red boots clacked overtop the wreckage to accept the challenge. Blue eyes met in silent consent, and darkness pulled from the shadows.

“Where else would you be, you succubus! You vampire! I’ll tear your head from your neck!” The last general lifted the closest rack and flung, barely missing his target as she ducked. Kamen slid around the side of the room, quickly ushering the guests together. Moon slid her tiara free and set the circlet blazing in her hand.

“You!” he coughed, black blood splattering his lips. The figure hunched and bubbled, popping bones into place with a resounding crack. She sought Kamen’s eyes, laying two fingers down slowly. He nodded.

She dove, arching the crackling weapon between them while the poison blade rose to meet it. The clash boomed through the enclosed space, sent shards of golden tiara whizzing through the racks and across the ground. The blade edged on, sweeping upward to catch her in the ribs. She jumped back, fists capturing his broken, twisted hands to wrench the blade free. Too late, her attacker rocked forward, slamming his shoulder into her chest.

The tiny frame crumpled backward as the sword clattered to the ground. Iron clasps gripped her tumbling body, tearing her from her fall and firing in the opposite direction. Cracked drywall smashed the odd quiet, her blue and white form crushed through the debris. Tile ricocheted through her knees and arms, glass slid through her skin as she skidded to a halt on the courtyard floor.   
.  
.  
……………………..  
AN: So yeah, I kinda like the cliffhangers…  
Sorry guys, I just had to. No worries, though, because even though this took me about 4 months to finish, the Epilogue is um…perfect. Flawless. Except for that one fight scene that I’ve been putting off for months….  
I would, however, love to invite all the followers of this story to check out my newest epic, Sleeping Death. If you haven’t started reading it, get on that like me in a Cinnabon store!  
HUGE MASSIVE RIDICULOUSLY LOUD shoutouts to my reviewers; this book is dedicated to the eight of you (and dear goodness, you know who you are!) who take the time to say something –you are the reason this story is getting finished. You are the reason I came back to writing after so long. You took the time to pull me out of a funk, and for that I am so, so grateful and thankful for your kind words, and for your encouragement when I feel like I suck. If numbers where everything, this would be not even a whisper in the fandom, but you guys make me feel like a superstar!

As freaking always, slightlyxjaded, you are amazing and wonderful. I couldn’t have asked for a better editor, your notes and emails make me laugh out loud, let me know when I’m on track, let me know… how to use a comma… amongst many other things :D You’re the best, my dear!

Thanks guys! Keep it tuned for the conclusion! (because I fangirl over it every time I read it!)  
E


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue

She coughed, feeling the bruise in her chest thud painfully at the action. Through dust and chalk, the staggering form angled forward on haphazard legs. Behind him, the forgotten crowds burst free and littered the exits in panic. She slid up to an elbow, eyes glazing as air was forced back into her lungs. The general was muttering grimly, flexing his hold on the sword like a batter.

The sight made her eyes widen in horror, because the Kunzite she'd faced last week had been every inch a general, had been terrifying, accurate, and precise. This shattered-mirror version seemed to walk on ankles more than feet, his chest dislocated and dangling on one side through his ripped jacket. It clearly showed the compound break in a shocking display of yellowed bone through flesh.

He came no closer. Like the steps of nightfall, Kamen slid from the wreckage and laid the brunt of his cane lengthwise across the white-blond skull. The crack bounced off the walls in echoes as the figure crumpled like tissue. Moon heaved a breath, hissing in pain as her bloodless legs shifted beneath her. It was hard to stand. Even her sight was hazing around the edges.

“Moon? You ok?” her dark companion called from the front of the store, bending to lift the fallen sword from the ground. The pile of humanity at his feet twitched, the solid thunk of bones snapping into place filled the air as the figure rose on preternatural legs.

“Look out!” she screamed, chest aching with the effort. It was too late, the ghostly specter slammed a raging whip-kick low into Kamen’s back. Black shadows slithered across the floor as he ground to a stop, too far away for her to reach. The deepening blue of her eyes shifted toward the hulking figure, watching as his body tumbled into place piece by piece.

She hadn’t done that to him. There’d been some broken ribs, and she’d definitely left her mark, but that level of shattered had to have come from Beryl. The hollow, soul-stopping battle cry he’d challenged in the beginning was not without some meaning. If even the demon queen had turned on him, there would be no reinforcements. Her eyes sought the poisoned blade across the floor, but could not seem to find it.

“Look out!” A force slammed into her side just as the sound for shattering cement filled the chamber. The two slid just enough, his cape drawn up over their heads to shelter from the falling chunks of rock. It was so close she could feel the muscle of his arms tense and bulge across her abdomen, feel and hear the hiss of his breath as his back took the brunt of their collision.

It was too soon. They’d just fought, and there was an enemy raging just outside the tiny haven of his cloak, and it was just too soon. She tore herself away from him, sliding out into the open air and viewing the battlegrounds carefully. A moment later, she was behind another pillar, going through the scene in her mind as she tried to formulate a plan. 

It was brutal. Kunzite’s wrath spread in every direction as littered glass and stone coated the mall floor. Several store windows had been shattered, their mannequins and clothes bleeding freely like fallen soldiers. The white haired zombie stood among the wreckage as if he'd been pieced together from the bits laying at his feet. Moon drew a sharp breath, hissing as her chest spasmed in response.

“You should let me look at that later,” Kamen muttered, taking position behind her. She shivered at the brush of his jacket against her back. Now was not the time to do this. 

“It’s not like you don’t stare at it anyway.” The man chuckled from behind, sending another bout of gooseflesh across her arms.

“Not now, Moon.” 

Another block of cement shattered against their column, sending shock waves across the both of them. Instinct forced his arms to move, to pull her close so the attack wouldn’t touch her. He knew it was the last thing in a long list she probably wanted, but there was no helping it.

"Let go! He's coming...." The words stopped short as something exploded right by his hand. The hero fell back, cradling his charge close so he could take the brunt of the impact.

The second she could, Moon shoved against his arms and rolled, picking up a painful amount of debris in her wounded shoulder as she went. The best cover possible was a raised planter, but she took it gratefully, curling herself beneath the ledge. This was pointless. She needed to get to higher ground so there'd be a chance of winning against the enraged nemesis. 

“You guys have a fight I don't know about?” The horrified voice of her date broke the disturbed spell on her brain and she glanced to her left. He was taking cover behind a store corner, mouth twisted in anger though she hadn't had the chance to answer yet

“Way to state the obvious!” she screamed back, tumbling away as a cement bench soared toward her. Reverberations hurtled through the air as the piece crumbled against a corner. The heroine ducked, rolling across the empty space to reach Kamen’s side, and thankfully missing another chunk thrown at her. Just for a moment, a spare slice of time, she cursed the luck that his was the only viable cover close enough to reach. She shivered, pulling close to her companion momentarily. 

“I think he’s pissed!” The comment was rewarded with another cement trashcan shattering above their heads. 

“You think?” he screamed back, ducking them beneath the cover of his cloak as broken glass launched in their direction. She coughed again, the aching grimace plain on her face. Within the darkened shroud, bare moments lapsed before the dark man rolled them out from under another onslaught. They swerved to a stop as his back connected with a plant holder. He grimaced, sitting upward to shift them around the protective corner. He was gasping for breath, favoring his left arm. “How did you win last time?”

“I kind of…had help.” She grimaced, wishing he’d ease up on her shoulder a bit. The chunks of glass were digging further and further into her flesh every time she had to roll, and he was making it worse by holding her so close. Her white gloves tore at his hand, prying her throbbing shoulder away from his jacket.  
“Are you kidding me?!”  
A skeletal hand clamped across her shoulder and ripped savagely upward. The shock had her rigid in pain as it took the brunt of her weight. The crush of that claw-like grip shot electric lava through her brain and sent her nerves stuttering. Not a sound erupted; even her lungs ceased to work properly. 

With the sudden loss of her warmth, Kamen turned in time to see her body dragged away, her face a scream of agony. Rage froze his blood in a sudden frost, rimmed his vision in black. The pressure built even as he stood, even as his silent footfall came like the reaper in the night.

His fist connected with a concussive boom that set the remaining windows rattling in terror. Chunks of flesh and bone littered the ground, followed quickly by the screaming corpse general. Profanities spewed from his blackened mouth in a foul river, unheard by the shadowed hero.

"Don't touch her."

Moon scuttled away the moment her shoulder fell from his grasp, staring in horror at the newly formed face. Well, lack thereof, she amended to herself. Mamoru must have used the smoking bomber in close quarters; not a pleasant mix with undead flesh. Her stomach churned uncertainly as Kunzite tried to speak. The muscles....

She shuddered, forced herself upright. There, just beyond her reach lay the poisoned sword he'd brought from the underworld. Her eyes hardened thoughtfully.

"You should have come when Beryl called, like the whipped plaything you are," Kunzite spat, trailing flesh from the exposed white of his chin.

"I had other things on my plate," Mamoru quipped smugly, the cane sword slithering free. He lunged, the blade aimed with surgeon’s precision at the chest of his enemy. It was without success, though, as the ghostly man caught the offending blade in a firm grip. The screech of bone on metal rang through the dust-coated air like a banshee. The enraged general ripped the sword from his hand, sent it skittering towards the wreckage before hurling himself forward. 

The reverberating crack of skull on tile blurred Kamen’s vision long enough for a bony fist to smash against the side of his face. It was the only hit, though, as a streak of red leather crunched into the already broken ribcage, and sent the demon sprawling across the concrete. The boot was lowered, and Moon quickly offered a hand up to her comrade before Kunzite could recover from the blow. 

Moon launched into a flying roundhouse as Kamen dove to sweep the feet out; each blow hitting precisely in tandem. The crunching body flipped several times before connecting with the floor again, this time in a heap of flesh and bone and silver hair. There was no time for thought, as each warrior righted themselves and shifted back defensively.

The crumbling remains of their nemesis began popping and boiling, the bones rearranging as he lifted from the floor on preternatural strings. Moon cast a nervous glance at her partner, but Kamen’s mouth was a firm line without emotion. 

The distraction almost proved her downfall as a clawed hand swept just short of her eye. A shriek burst from her mouth, and the reflexive curve of her arms would have been much too late. It was the powerful kick from her protector that halted the dead arc, and sent the white man tumbling across the ground. A cold chill freckled her spine.

The two glanced at each other meaningfully, turned, and unleashed hell.

The staggering figure was caught between Kamen’s fist, and Moon’s boot as the duo struck and fought in perfect rhythm, passing the increasingly battered corpse between blows like a volleyball. One bony hand latched to her ankle and yanked, pulling the girl off her feet, but Tuxedo Kamen was there, tackling and pummeling the figure with both hands. It wasn’t long before Kunzite was still, barely breathing, barely moving as the shadowed hero climbed to his feet again.

“Grab that sword, would you?” he asked quietly, staring at the mass before them for any signs of movement. His gloves were stained dark, ripped in places. She nodded, reaching into her subspace pocket for the heavy black saber. A hell-black eyebrow arched, the quicksilver smile of appreciation lit his mouth as she gripped the cross-guard in both hands. “Seriously? You brilliant little minx.”

His hand closed around the pommel, lifting the giant monstrosity with an ease that made her ears warm. Heaven blue eyes dropped to her own shaking hands, afraid to see what he’d do next. Kunzite wasn’t the kind to just give up, she was sure, especially since he didn’t have a Youma to do the dirty work. It made her wonder again if he’d fallen out of favor since their last meeting.

“It’s almost…pathetic.” Mamoru straightened, hands still locked around the weapon. There was shifting within the jacket now, as if tiny rodents were crawling around trying to find an exit. The idea made her blanch and pull both arms around her middle tightly.

“He was your best friend.” she noted, trying to still the body-wide tremble. The mass was still lying flat against the tiled floor, obviously struggling to pull himself together again. 

Mamoru made no move to deny it. His knuckles ached from the abuse. His eyes stung with dust. In another lifetime, perhaps he would have felt some sort of sorrow. It seemed safe enough to glance up at least, take stock of his companion. She was obviously zoning out, her flesh white and puckered. 

“Beryl will devour y--.” A clean flash of metal glinted upward in the dim overhead lights. The faint buzzing of lights filled the space between breaths. Moon felt her lip tremble, felt her stomach churn as Kunzite’s face–as his head–smacked against the tile with a squish. Within seconds, the body followed. It was a gruesome sight, with swathes of black blood pooling across the ground like machine oil.

Kamen was still. In all the years they’d fought together on the front line, she’d never seen him do something so violent. The Youma were demons of the underworld–not human, not living, breathing creatures with a soul. The generals were different.

“I couldn’t let him come after you.” Her protector turned slowly, his masked face unreadable and hard. She gulped a sudden breath, wondering how long it had been since she last did so. The movement brought the pain in her chest forward with a harsh tug, drew tightly at her arm and upper back. A tired wince glazed across her face as she reached for the wound curiously.

"Are you alright?" The question finally broke from his mouth as he watched her pull a bloodied hand from her shoulder. Without another word, he strode forward quickly to survey her back and arm with clinical eyes. 

Out in the open was not the place to be dressing a wound like that. The news cameras would be showing up any minute, and there was plenty of debris for them to catalogue without knowing the two were still there. He glanced around carefully, noting the first row of overturned tables in the food court. 

It would mean there was a service hallway, probably bathrooms somewhere close by. With any luck, there’d be a family room big enough for two with a lock. There were no words between them as she allowed herself to be led down the long corridor. Her shoulder was beginning to throb, and she could feel the blood soaking into her uniform, squishing with every movement.

The door was bolted behind them, and she watched listlessly as he tore the gloves from his hands, the mask from his face. It wasn’t the first time today she’d felt foolish standing in front of him. Letting herself get thrown through a wall was pretty irresponsible, especially after calling dibs on the first strike. If the girls were here–well, they were probably on their way if they’d been close enough to hear it–they would have expected more from her.

“Turn around,” he commanded quietly, and she obeyed, pressing her forehead against the cool wall. Her chest was aching, but she wasn’t going to complain as long as the blood loss made her woozy like this. The sparks tickled on the back of her arm as he worked. It was a nice distraction from the pain.

"I'm sorry I freaked out," she muttered finally, eyes latched to the floor. He nodded silently, afraid anything more would break the tenuous moment. Her hair shifted just enough as she turned further away. The skin was healing nicely across her blood-spattered arm. He tried not to notice how soft it was.

"Do you hate me?" 

The question made his hands still instantly. Hate her? Was that even possible? His stunned silence forced a tiny sob from her. If he hadn't been in contact with her shoulder, he probably never would have known. Gentle fingers sought her chin with more surety than he really felt. 

"Never." He smiled, so softly, and caught a tear as it fell from her eye. "You really are too sweet...Usa-ko." 

She shouldn't care. Wasn't that the point of telling someone you didn't want to be with them? His gaze fell away first, before it could flood with tears, before she could see how deep the pain went. It didn't matter anymore. Rather than feel that world rending tear in his chest, he focused on healing her arm instead. It wouldn't be right to end their one date like that, with her wounded and thinking....

He gulped, pulled on her just enough so she could face away from him again. It didn't stop the rebellious tears from rolling down his face. He ignored it, though. There was plenty of time to finish his work and dry them before she had a chance to see. Besides, he didn't want her thinking about it when she had her own health to consider, and Usagi was too much of a humanitarian not to.

Now was the difficult part, though, because the damn fuku was hard and strong, and the glass had slipped deep beneath the edge of the shoulder pads, further than he could reach without angling her arm and maybe causing more damage. 

"Mamoru," she shifted much too quickly for him to catch, and her wide blue eyes took in his wet face with growing horror. He shrugged, trying to play it off as he swiped at them half-heartedly.

"It's nothing. Probably dust. Could you de-transform maybe? This would be easier in the dress."

The doubt was apparent on her face as those heavenly eyes regarded him. Ever the stoic, though, it was easy to return gaze for gaze before she finally looked away.

The sudden flash of bare skin and white lace seared his retina the second it all faded. Slung low about her waist, bundles of sunshine yellow billowed and began to fall. She squeaked, reaching for the fabric while he quickly shut his eyes. Not that it mattered. The image of Usagi’s toned body and generous curves would haunt his nights for the rest of his life; of that he was perfectly certain.

“Don’t you dare say a thing!” the horrified voice all but growled while he tried to stifle the laugh. Why was it all of their best moments happened when someone messed up? The somber mood was broken, though. The shift of cotton and muttered grumblings snowed from his irritable date until the finality of the zipper hissed though the tirade. All the while, he was trying to keep a straight face. “I will never live that down, will I?” 

“Sh, I’m memorizing,” he quipped smugly, though he could feel his pants tightening still. Damn, she looked good. It just wasn’t fair. It was like he’d only been offered soup and jell-o until someone hung a steak right there…and he couldn’t touch it. 

“Seriously? Stop!” Her hands swatted at him, forcing his eyes open again to defend himself. There was a short scuffle, with both childishly swatting at the other, fighting to hide grins. Usagi was the obvious winner by the end of it–she’d faked a painful whimper long enough to get a chest shot in before he could grab her arm again. 

“Endymion gets all the fun.” Mamoru’s uncharacteristic, high-pitched whine could only be to mock the glowering blonde. She instantly shot him a withered, bland glare that could only be a rendition of his own face. The exchange had both of them stifling laughter as he shifted her back into position.

They grew comfortably quiet while he worked, slowly inching the glass shards out of her skin with the golden sparks. It was hard to block out the pain, but his touch was so soft and kind, as it had been with her head. 

This wasn’t fair. He’d asked her what she wanted, and there was no telling that night sitting on the back of his car. There’d been too many things rolling around inside her head–betrayal, pain, anger, resentment, disgust–there’d been an entire lifetime before this one that dictated every move and thought. There had been his apparent lack of trust, his selfishness and deceit.

What she wanted was love. Real, raw, aching love. Not the kind that makes you want to die for someone, or chains you to them, or enslaves you. But the kind that made you want to live for them. It wasn’t about roses and romance, though those things were great, she conceded to herself. It was about being in love with someone that knew and didn’t care that she couldn’t cook or do math. She wanted someone who could see the good in her anyway.

Maybe that’s what he wanted, too.

“You’re just like me, aren’t you?” The question caught him off guard as another shard inched free and fell away from her back. “I really suck at school. I really suck at a lot of things.” She shifted a little, reminding him of the last few bleeding patches. “I think that you really suck at being with people. Like,” she rushed on quickly, “like you just need a friend and can’t find one.”

“Ironic,” he grumbled tightly, wishing there was a quiet place to ram his head through a wall. He was getting friend zoned-by his soul mate. As if this whole year hadn’t been hell enough without her, he was now looking into a future where she’d always be right in front of him, and completely off limits.

It was enough to drive a sane man to drink.

“I would have been your friend, Mamoru, if you’d asked.” The mouse-like whisper barely broke the quiet before he was already answering.

“So now we should order pizza and watch a chick flick, and you can tell me about all the cute boys in your class?” The last patch bubbled with fresh skin as the words slid free. “No thanks.”

“No!” She spun, this time catching the self-mocking smile edging against his mouth. He looked so shuttered and closed off now. She wasn’t using the right words! 

“Mamoru-kun, wait! That’s not what I meant!” A frustrated groan rumbled free of her tiny mouth as she looked around in agitation. “Why is it I can just talk to you right up until there’s something important to say?!”

“Maybe because important things are deeper than what you’re normally swimming in.” The jibe was only half intended. She was much smarter than she seemed to be, but it was obvious how completely unaware of the fact she was. Maybe the capacity had been there all along, but the motivation lacking. There were a million possibilities for why she didn’t seem able to realize how clever she was.

“See! This is what I mean! To you, I’m just an airhead, and to me you’re just a jerk!” 

“You’re much more to me.” His answer was given quietly. There was no need to shout what he’d already confessed a dozen times.

“Yeah, well, you are to me, too,” she grumbled back, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

“You just said….”

“I know!” she exploded, arms flailing. It was adorable to watch how vivid and expressive she was. “I just wanted to say that we could have been close when we met. We could have been friends, and then…and then who knows. But you push people away! You’re pushing me away right now!” One of those arms flung his direction, which he easily sidestepped without breaking a sweat.

“I was under the impression that’s what you wanted.” The quiet offering was given without a hint of emotion. It was amusing, on a dislocated level, how opposite they were.

“Why? Because I got emotional? I warned you I get like that sometimes!” Her glowing red face turned away finally, just enough not to meet his solemn gaze “And you get all guarded! I know! What I’m trying to say is that we’re the same in different ways.”

Confusion and amusement twisted along his brow, but he wisely chose not to comment. There was just enough encouragement to bolster her for the next part, because she was still working through it in her head while she spoke, and sometimes the words got mixed up and confused.

“We look different, but we’re the same. We’re both broken.” She paused to draw another breath in. “When you get all closed off, that’s exactly what I want to do every time I have to fight, every time I have to take a math test. I hate those things, and I’m not good at them. It’s not fair, because you are really good at them. I want to be like that.” The words tumbling free of her mouth seemed to make more and more sense as she continued; afraid the train of thought would be lost, she barreled on. “I think, oh gods don’t hate me, but I think you want to be like me. I have people close to me, and you want that.”

She nibbled at her lip nervously, hating herself for being so ridiculous and childish. Maybe he was lonely, and maybe he wasn’t. Judging him would do nothing to reveal that, and she’d just gone and made a fool of herself again. It wouldn’t be but a few minutes before the stunning upperclassman finally realized how stupid and pathetic she was. Then he’d just laugh, like he used to, and leave.

“Not the words I would have chosen,” he smiled, ducking his eyes for a moment, “but yes. And no.” There was a pause as she nervously twisted fingers through her hair. His dark, cobalt eyes were burning hotter now than she’d ever seen them. “I don’t want an army of friends and family. Just you.”

She shivered, both at the memories and his meaning. The disbelief from the car all but rammed into her gut at the thought. She hadn’t read too deep into anything, the man really did mean everything he implied. A nervous gulp sucked at her throat.

He was so close. Oh, this whole date he was always so close! It made her senses go haywire and the lights flick out and the world completely disappear. 

“No.” he whispered, pulling back as his eyes closed. The loss of him was tangible and painful as he backed away. She all but shrieked in frustration until those eyes snapped open again, muffling the intensity and hunger in an instant. “Damn it, Usagi-chan! Stop sending mixed signals!"

Oh gods, he wanted her so badly. He could feel his whole body trembling at the idea of one kiss. And it wasn’t fair because she’d already called things off, she’d already badgered Motoki, and she’d already flushed it all down the toilet several times at this point. He was fooling himself to think she’d change her mind. Both hands clenched with the effort of reigning it all in again. He could keep it under lock and key. He could let her go.

"Let's get you home. I'm sure you're tired."

“Wait!” Her soft hands clenched around his fist as he turned away. The tears began to fall again and he didn’t dare turn back to her. She didn’t need to know. She would never know. “Wait, Mamo-chan,”

The endearment froze him. It may as well have been Mercury blasting through every nerve rather than the tiny blond with her soft voice.

“Just tell me why.” Her voice gave out finally, squeaking like a child at the end. It made her flush, made her hate how young she was beside him. It was embarrassing to realize where they were, what they were talking about. Every time they had a run in like this, it was always in some horrifically mundane place like an alley or a rooftop. It shouldn’t matter right now, but a part of her craved candlelight and roses where the trashcan stood, and a chance to talk about this like a real couple.

“Complete sentences,” he groaned, taking the opportunity to wipe at his eyes discreetly. 

“Why do you love me?” The question made her quake with uncertainty. He'd said those words, but until this very moment, she'd never thought for a second it was real. That was twice now, seeing his eyes well and flow over. He wasn't the emotional kind. As far as she knew, he wasn't even capable of having feelings, let alone allowing them to be seen. Maybe she'd misjudged him? Maybe she'd believed her own insecurities rather than understanding he had a few of his own?

"Does it matter?" His gruff reply was cold and removed. If he hadn't been so determined not to look at her, she may have dropped it instantly. But there was a part of her soul that recognized, that knew, he was in pain no matter how he tried to deny it. Maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was that innate desire to see others happy, but she just couldn't bear it. 

"Yes," she choked, felt his hand twitch beneath her fingers. "Please, Mamoru, it's important." Her own eyes were dripping now. It was stupid to think this junction wouldn't cause them pain, but it still surprised her. She'd spent all year dreaming of and fighting him, wanting something she knew would be nothing but heartache and pain. It rent the world in two, made her feel as if she were following suit. 

He turned finally, with red, tired eyes that seemed to bleed more than flood. In quiet despair, his gaze spread across her face. It was strange to watch his guard melt so immediately, to see his pain-filled blue orbs go soft. One hand rose, flinching just short of her face as the misery deepened. 

"Don't cry, Usa...." Was it just her imagination, or were his lips quivering as he spoke? Her breathing stuttered, and the skin of her cheek crackled with electricity though he hadn’t touched it yet. The muscle in his jaw leapt beneath the skin, and his fingers finally spread across her face. The tears soaked into the pads of his hands, warmed as instantaneously as their owner. “Because,” his thumb rubbed against her cheek, and sent those same skittering lights flickering across her skin, “because you’re so kind.” That perfect, sweet smile pulled at his lips again, and it was all she could do not to melt. “There are so many different sides to you, Usa-chan. But that one’s my favorite.”

She couldn’t help the thrill of pleasure that broke her skin into goosebumps. His confession meant more than he realized; after all, it was her father’s favorite trait too. It was pure Usagi. Moon was all about dealing out punishment and righting wrongs. There had never been an opportunity for Serenity to show it while they snuck around. None of those stolen nights could really be remembered well, short of the last battle and…and their night. A nervous gulp tugged at her throat.

“Oh.” Her uttered word hardly summed up the tempestuous thoughts burning through grey matter by the millisecond. She’d tried so hard not to think about it. The past few nights had been spent separating memories through the dream sequence, pulling the horror from pleasure. It was like every ounce of strength she put into avoiding those things during the day boomeranged back at her once she slept. She’d woken up even this morning, aching for something she couldn’t quite name. It had been in his eyes at Christmas, though, and those dreams had given her a real, delicious taste of what was to come.

Hesitantly, she inched forward. He was maddening and imperfect and frustrating. He would drive her insane a million times a day, challenge her and push her till she met him toe to toe. He would protect her and tease her and never let anyone else hurt her, even if it meant his life. It was a terrifying promise to stand beside her even when she was angry, even when she was raging mad at him. It was truly, uncomprehendingly, unconditional love.

He knew her; all her faults. 

And he didn’t care.

The first hesitant brush of her mouth met with firm lips, as if he were holding back from her. For a crazed moment, she wondered if maybe she was losing her mind. They’d fought, then they’d beaten Kunzite, and now was the perfect time to be making a move on him? The teenager in her was rolling her eyes and throwing both hands up in frustration. The rest of her was licking the taste of him from her lips.

Intoxicating. The taste of addiction. There was the mindless feel of fabric beneath her fingers, the hard tone of muscle beneath, the smell of his cologne so close and warm. He wasn’t breathing, his body stone beneath her hands. If it weren’t for those stormy midnight eyes hooded in warning, perhaps she would not have been so bold. His shirt slipped beneath her hands, his shoulder, and his neck. Her fingers brushed against his skin, curled around the base of his skull, and pulled him close.

This time his mouth was softer, though he still seemed to hesitate. It wasn’t until she pressed herself close enough to feel his body hard against her own that all resolutions were thrown to the wind. Both arms snaked around her, drew her closer still so she could feel every shudder and tremble of him. It was like feeling a spring uncoil with a twang and suddenly the machine was broken. But he was no robot.

With a gentleness that surprised her, his lips curled around her own. Those hands spread across her back and hip, so tender and soft and undemanding. His fingers caressed against her skin. It was nothing like Christmas, or Valentine’s; he wasn’t trying to trick or goad her. Instead, this seemed…grateful? Loving? It poured accelerant across her chest, filled her with something more than heat, more than love. 

Was it possible?

Their mouths parted simultaneously, the brush of tongue exotic and thrilling. Her second hand spread across his chest, tangled in his shirt and held tight. 

‘I love your smile,’ Endymion whispered that first night, even as Tuxedo Kamen yelled the same across a lonely rooftop. ‘You’re so sweet,’ they both clashed in her brain like a fever dream. The words of love and longing and devotion mixed drunkenly in the swirl of her mind, returning over and over again. Those words echoed and mirrored like a gem, called without time or reference. Their lives were mashing together in a flurry of images and confessions and soft, aching kisses that had Usagi trembling.

It didn’t matter! Hadn’t he said the same that night on the road–that it was all from the same mouth? And it was, oh his taste was so perfect and familiar. It was strange to think of, but the idea that she could possibly kiss another mouth without that flavor was unbearable. And she’d fought it, so hard and long now that weariness crept through her bones. She was tired of fighting, tired of always saying “no” to something that had been written forever into their past. As inevitable as new life and the passing of time, it was worthless to put it off any longer.

Even as her lips curved against his, as his fingers touched her face and jaw with adoration and longing, that eons-long answer came gurgling upward. This time, she let the warmth spread. That light, so like a torch burning through the darkness of night, pulled her forward no matter how she’d fought it in the past. It filled her, spilled over her chest and head in one gentle swoop, and burst like a new star.

The two broke, shielding their eyes from the brilliance growing between them. She would have screamed, if the glow hadn’t been familiar. She groaned though, eyes searing in pain as it grew too strong in the tiny room, only to be doused moments later. 

Mamoru’s fist clenched and glowed like a sun, suspended between them in the air. The blond gulped, staring at his hand in confusion as it simmered, glowered, and faded back to its original color. The man was studying his fist carefully, waiting until it was cool before flicking it open again.

The perfectly formed jewel shattered even dim bathroom lights across the flesh of his hand, sent rainbows across the walls. She gasped, hands flying over her mouth as she stared at the heirloom. Even he seemed to realize exactly what it was as he lifted it to the light, watched the silvery sheen glisten across the facets. 

The Ginzuishu flickered back, an all-powerful weapon now in the hands of Tuxedo Kamen, Prince Endymion–perhaps two of the most obvious rivals for its power. She couldn’t help the tremor of fear that licked at her. Even with the realization of moments before, she had to wonder if that was his motive all along. Had he known it was trapped inside her? Had he somehow outsmarted her in the hopes of gaining that power himself?

It was all laid to rest as his soft smile broke through, and he flourished through a gentlemanly bow.

“Your gem, my princess. I think you’ve been asking for this.” The slight hint of humor in his tone eased the formal words, though, and had her smiling again as she reached for it. The weight of it pressed into her hand like a mother’s embrace, and he gathered her quickly to his chest without another motion for the jewel. “Now will you stop with the freaky dreams? Or at least give me the other kind?”

“F-freaky?” she squeaked, face suddenly hot as he chuckled and swooped in for another kiss.  
.  
.  
……..

“Think about it, ok?” A sly grin twisted his mouth. “I’ll keep charming the hell out of you.” The arm draped around her shoulders tightened as his lips brushed her temple. The bags clutched in her hand swung awkwardly as she giggled. It took a moment to right herself as he tugged her away from a corner wall. 

The remnants of their battle were being coated in crime scene tape as the last of the mall workers bled from the framework and into the street. They’d been lucky to catch one in the wreckage of the changing rooms while she grabbed her phone. It had taken a bit of fast talking on Mamoru’s part to explain why they’d come back so soon after the fight. He didn’t bother to explain why buying the pink dress was important either. 

On a side note, at least she hadn’t been flirting with him. Too shaken.

A policeman was ushering people into a group when they exited, and Mamoru quickly steered her in the other direction before they got caught in an interrogation. She didn’t seem to notice the move. Clutched protectively in her other fist, the Ginzuishu felt unnaturally warm for a stone. She pulled it out now and watched as the last of the sunlight flickered across the surface.

“Where am I even going to put this thing?” she muttered, knowing full well she couldn’t just thoughtlessly throw it in her shopping bags. If anything were to happen to the gem, she’d never be able to forgive herself. It was an heirloom from her mother, and the pain of that thought would never leave her. As discretely as possible, she cast a glance toward her bra and wondered if she could sneak it in before he noticed.

“Trust me, there’s not an extra inch in there." The wicked grin spreading across his face had her blushing to the roots.

“You did look! Hentai!” she screeched, arms flailing. His hand slipped over her mouth just as quickly, and he cast a glance behind to make sure the police hadn’t heard her. For one, it would mean interrogation, but for another, she was quite young…and out with a college student.

“Yes, and now I can die happy,” he stated tightly, not the least bit repentant. She glared over his hand, whipping back around with her arms folded across her chest. Since she wasn’t running off or punching him in the face, he took the initiative and wrapped his arm back around her. It was easy to see through the righteous anger. She was blushing and trying to hold back a pleased grin. Adorable. He didn’t bother with the pretense before pressing another kiss to her brow. “Just use your sub-space pocket.”

“Oh…right.” The blush deepened as she stuffed the rock away. There was a moment of confusion before she stuffed the rest of the bags in, too. 

“What did you do with the phone?” he asked finally, brow furrowed. It wasn’t like she’d brought a purse, and surely she wouldn’t…

“Oh, it’s in here,” …put it in a shopping bag. He threw a long sigh to the wind as she rummaged back through the pocket, pulling out bags and old takeout containers. His jaw dropped, and he was quick to still her hands before they could produce any other magical things in the middle of a crowded parking lot.

“Well, you asked me where it was!” she growled, a bit embarrassed to be caught doing something so thoughtless. Unlike Rei, though, his eyes were compassionate and he didn’t just explode on contact. Instead, the bags were carefully taken from her hands, and he angled himself so she could stuff the food back without being noticed. 

“I swear, only you would carry around that much junk.” He was shaking his head, the chuckle barely shifting in his shoulders.

“Stuff it, Chiba!”

The two resumed their quiet walk into the parking lot, and suddenly he was grateful for the police being there. The detour meant he could spend a little more time with her. All in all, he could consider date two more of a success. They’d fought a little, sure, and there’d been a few misunderstandings. He must have said something right for her to be so bold earlier. He’d have to remember it for later.

“Ne.” Her sweet voice pulled him back from the thoughts to focus on her once again. The dying sunlight was dancing in her hair, setting soft glow to her face. The flame in his chest sparked for the millionth time that night, and he couldn’t help but press another kiss to her temple.

“Hai, Usa-chan?”

“Why did you, I mean…I didn’t really mean for it to happen like this.” She struggled momentarily, twisting her skirt as she looked away. “I just wanted you to leave me alone. You changed your whole life around…for me….”

“You didn’t have to ask.” He smiled, tilting her face back up towards his. Heaven blue eyes stared up at him finally, wet and adorable and beautiful all at once. She felt everything on the outside where anyone could see it. The girl had to be some sort of masochist. “Usa, you were right. Why should you date someone like me?”

In sincerity, he almost couldn’t believe she was doing it right now. After the kind of stunts he’d pulled, any sane woman would have turned tail and run screaming. Well, she kind of already did that; even though the screaming had been in his face.

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice!” The anger folded her brow and he had to stop himself from laughing. They were trying to have a serious conversation, and the girl was too adorable. It was distracting.

“Didn’t I?” A hell-black eyebrow arched curiously. The beginnings of an amused smile flirted on his mouth as he reached up to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “I seem to remember begging for a date, knees in the dirt.” 

“Exactly. Like I could have said no to that!” She turned away again, fuming this time. The chuckle broke free at last.

“Oh, you could have,” he mused quietly. The reminder of that night brought a painful twinge he didn’t like thinking about.

“But would you have listened?” she screeched, getting more and more worked up as they made their way down the aisles toward the car. He winced; close proximity to that voice might mean a hearing aid in the future. He’d have to be careful not to piss her off in a building, otherwise the echo might mean the end of his eardrum.

“Completely.” He was careful to hide the pain, and spoke with complete, unabashed sincerity. “I just also may have physically strangled anyone you happened to say yes to.” 

“Yeah, you made that point super clear,” she huffed, feeling that frustration come back from the other night. His dark blue eyes settled on her pointedly, as if explanation was moot. “I asked him, not the other way around! Sheesh, you were acting like a jealous ex!”

“Which, of course, we both know I could never be.” His tone was all serious, but his smile condemning. It was just like him to have that subtle sense of humor. He’d looked like a rabid wolf that night. 

“You looked ready to tear his throat out with your bare hands,” she stated quietly, wondering after that fight with Kunzite if he really would ever do such a thing. The thought had the general’s mangled face gurgling up in the back of her mind, forcing a shudder down her spine.

“There’s a novel idea. I’ll keep it in mind the next time you start eyeing the competition.”

There was a moment of quiet as he glanced around the parking lot. They should have made it to his car by now. A quick turn-around had them heading in the right direction this time. He hadn’t really been paying attention to where they were going, too caught up in the conversation to notice how close to the road they were. Usagi said nothing about it, probably thinking along the same lines.

It was a pleasant thought, if it were true, that she was enjoying this as well. He never wanted to take her home. Her mother had mentioned something about a curfew, though, and that he would obey completely. A quick glance at his watch showed they were running short on time if traffic was heavy. He wasn’t so sure it would be after the news of the fight hit.

"I still can't believe you stuffed his sword in your pocket." He chuckled, tightening his arm around her.

"Well, where else was I going to put it?" Her brow furrowed adorably, as if this solution had been the most obvious one. It just made him chuckle harder, till he felt tears running down his face. She was so…intelligent sometimes. It was the only place in the world that would have guaranteed Kunzite would never lay a hand on it again, and she hadn’t even thought of that part.

“My gods, your beautiful mind; may our kids be so brilliant,” he mused finally, lifting his hand from her hip to wipe at his face. He’d never laughed so hard, or so often in his life.

“Our kids, hu?” she queried, eyebrows wagging suggestively. He grinned.

“Yeah. We should probably start now, you know. Have like 50 of them.” His wicked side-long glance froze her in her tracks as every cell jumped in sudden, painful self-awareness.

“What?!”

The world tilted in a split-second, the worst case of déjà vu she had ever experienced, as she was flung unceremoniously over one shoulder. The action knocked the wind from her, though she could practically feel his glee soaking through skin and fabric. It was addictive, silly, and the laughter was falling long before reason or humiliation had a chance to voice an opinion.

“We can’t waste those genes, Usa! It’s for your own good!” he called, taking off in a run towards the car.

“Ma-Mamo-chan!” she giggled hysterically, only half fighting his hold.  
.  
.  
………..

She was still laughing as they walked up the dark path to her home. The warm summer air was heady, sweet, and filled with the scent of flowers. There was no wind to distract from the sudden quiet that fell across the two. The door loomed in impending finality. The silent barrier would be the ultimate test; if she were to cross angry, he was positive there would be no more chances. As much fun as their evening had been, the anxiety gnawed painfully at his gut and howled in the back of his mind.

At the same time, he was seething just below the skin. Did she see how real this could become? It wasn’t just some random fantasy anymore; the woman at his side was as tangible and confusing and crazy as her counterparts had been from the beginning. The difference was this one he could wrap an arm around anytime he felt like it. The other thought blazing through his triumphant mind was the vaguely sacrilegious idea that it was no longer taboo.

The fates didn’t like it, but he didn’t really give two cents for that. Angry they had lost control of the situation, those hags had lashed out in the only way they could. They’d failed. The shining blond at his side leaned her head against his chest as they walked, smiled openly. It wasn’t exactly long-term, but she was responding without hatred or sarcasm or fear. Considering where they’d been two weeks ago, it might as well have been a brand new civilization popping up in the desert.

“Oh, papa’s home…” the words barely cracked the surface of his conscience before the world filled with a double barrel. A chill spread low in Mamoru’s back, and his fingers tightened on her hip instinctively.

“Usagi-chan, you’re grounded.” The dangerous tone should have been enough to force her into submission, but the idea of Mamoru, her Mamo-chan, out here with a gun pointed at him made her quake. They’d just finally had a good date! She couldn’t let him get blown away already!

“Papa, no…” she tried, wrapping both arms around her date protectively. 

“I don’t want to hear it! Go inside, right now!” The tone brooked no argument. She could see his grip on the handle tighten. It would only make matters worse for Mamo-chan if she stayed. He was Tuxedo Kamen; surely if things got too dicey, he could get away. Right?

Sufficiently cowed, and obviously struggling against tears, she turned wet eyes up at the upperclassman once and took the bags from his hand. The idea that she might be more afraid of her father than Mamoru's own death did little to calm the insecurity boiling in his gut. Obviously, she trusted her father more than he did. This thought supplied little comfort. As midnight dark eyes settled against brown without a hint of that fear apparent.

“Want to put the gun down?” Mamoru asked coolly, stuffing both hands into his pocket with a calm he did not feel. He would be easy enough to disarm and subdue; not all humans were born with his abilities. 

But it would do nothing good for the sprouting relationship he'd fought so hard for.

“You stay away from her! We don’t want your kind around here!” The business end of the weapon was flailed in front of his face, as if pushing it closer would somehow make the shot more intimidating. It didn't exactly take a ballistics expert to know even one bullet at the wrong moment would end him.

Who would protect Usagi then?

“Excuse me," he tried again, feeling the cold rage frost against his chest, as it had always done. The end trembled a little, nearly knocked against his nose. It did little to calm the fury as her father exploded once more.

“No, you listen! Don’t you touch my daughter again! Last warning!”

“Oh for crying out–look.” It only took the lightning fast reflexes of Kamen’s hands before the gun was snatched away. It was long enough for him to twist the gun out of his assailant’s grasp before he flipped the double barrel back. Two solid thumps erupted from the ground as the shells crashed down, leaving the weapon harmless as it was cocked back into place. “Now, let’s try again. This time, without your stupid…gods, this is ridiculous.”

The older man stared as the weapon was handed back. His eyes wandered between Mamoru and his now-useless gun for a few seconds, as if he was trying to figure something out. It wasn’t long before the firearm was angled over one shoulder like a bat, and the father raging worse than before.

“She’s not one of your playboy bunnies! I’ve seen you in the news, with your loose women and money! My Usagi is nothing like that! So get away from her!” He swung, and Mamoru calmly sidestepped the blow. Really, it would do her father no good to hit him. For one, a personal injury claim would bankrupt the little family, and two, assault was still a criminal charge. 

Oh, and three, nothing would scare him off at this point. Least of all, her father.

“I assure you, my sex life is none of your concern.” His clipped tone would have clued others in on how deep the anger ran at this point. It had no effect on the man before him, however.

“She’s my little girl!” Kenji screamed, brandishing the gun as if to swing it again.

“She’s my future wife!” Mamoru growled finally, unable to hold the emotion from his voice as he did. There was a moment, had they been in broad daylight, that his embarrassment flared on the tips of his ears. It didn't matter. If this man thought for a moment he could stand between them, there would be little more discussion to be had. He wouldn't leave on anyone's word but hers. "Here's how this is going to work.” He continued, ignoring any further comment. “I love your daughter. You are going to leave us alone, and in return I’ll leave you alone, deal?"

“How dare you even assume–” 

“Says the parent that has literally trapped his daughter into being twelve for the past 5 years of her life." The cutting remark slid easily from the hero’s mouth. Never having a true authority figure in his life served him well in moments like this. Age and position meant nothing when he was being threatened; and he certainly wasn’t going to hold back and let this strange little man walk all over him. 

“I was protecting her from people like you!” Kenji screamed.

“Thank you!” he roared finally, ready to tear his hair out. This was not exactly how he’d wanted this meeting to go. Her mother had been a breeze to charm, but that had been with the added benefit of having a face worth staring at. That meant nothing to her father.

Though, the older man was staring at him strangely, still hefting the gun over his head like a weapon.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Kenji muttered in confusion. The arms began to lower, just a fraction, just enough for piercing blue eyes to notice. Mamoru straightened himself carefully, meeting her father's incredulous gaze. 

“I said thank you.” he paused long enough to gauge the confusion on the other man's face. A solemn breath filled him before he could continue. “Your daughter is amazing. She needs to be protected, Tsukino-san. I’m glad you kept her safe.”

“Till you showed up," the other remarked bitterly. The gun lowered completely now, shoulder rest hitting the cement.

But the idea boggled his mind to consider. There was always the self-depreciating argument about wearing someone else's shoes, but if Mamoru had a daughter, he'd want her married off to someone intelligent, capable–someone who wouldn't let anything happen to her. It was what Mamoru had always seen himself as.

Not that there wasn't ample room for improvement, he amended. Her father seemed only interested in keeping everyone away with tricks and intimidation–there was no logic to it. For a slim, subtle moment, he could almost imagine the all-seeing eye float above the photographer's head, could almost see the influence of the fates themselves. 

“You’ll have to explain your logic to me." He smiled without malice or irony. Those hags had less hold than they realized, and he'd be the one to smash it using the best weapon he had. “What exactly are you looking to accomplish here? You want someone who will cower at your feet, or someone who’ll defend her to the death?”  
.  
.  
………………

The front entry wasn’t butter-colored anymore. Usagi nervously kicked the shoes from her feet, twisting her hands together out of habit and sheer annoyance. There should have been some assumption for her dad, what exactly did she think was going to happen? That Tsukino Kenji would take one look at them together, say ‘Well, obviously this was destiny,’ and calmly put away his rifle? What was she thinking?

It only took a moment before she was scurrying around the corner into the living room, out of breath and a little flushed, to race to the window. Instead, she froze.

Two boys peeked out between the curtains, their bodies turned away from her. Shingo was all too familiar, with his sandy brown hair and ridiculous preteen frame. But the patch of shadow dark hair, the wiry young frame beside him was what caught her off guard.

“Umi-chan?” she breathed, a little confused. It wasn’t Thursday, was it? Not to mention it was a little late to be outside of the orphanage without getting in trouble. The duo turned in unison, the young faces splitting into wide grins.

“Onee-san!” he screeched, launching himself from the couch to her arms. The hurtling bundle slammed into Usagi like a train wreck and had both figures plowing into the carpet. Despite the awkward whoosh of air, the squeak and grunt of having the wind knocked out of her, it was Shingo’s boyish laugh that practically layered frosting on the moment. Confusion mixed with happiness, the blond stroked Umi’s dark head of hair with one hand.

“You are going to be in so much trouble! We have to get you home before they make you clean the toilets again!” The threat was without sting, though, and they all knew it. As if cleaning could somehow be a worse punishment than having to live in such a dark, lonely place. Umi’s tiny body started shivering, instantly drawing her up on her knees. “Oi! It’s not so bad….”

“No,” he finally chuckled a little, so awkwardly similar to Mamoru’s that it stilled her. It was like the laugh was held too far inside to let the sound out; like he felt things so deeply that expressing them was difficult. 

The sudden insight struggled against her conscience for a moment before fading back again. 

“Your boyfriend totally sold him to us!” Shingo whooped from the sidelines. He was standing on the couch, cushions puckered halfway up his legs. He was wearing his Senshi pajamas again, something she’d laugh about until the end of time.

“You don’t sell people, little ingrate!” Usagi sassed, struggling to stand up with an eight-year-old hanging on her neck like a monkey. The results were less than impressive as her hair tangled in his hands and legs. This was about to get painful.

“Shingo, Usagi, that’s enough. Where’s that nice young man?” Ikuko mothered from the kitchen doorway, her eyes lit from within. The usual mix of mischief and tenderness was amplified tonight, so strong it seemed to wash over them like a tangible feeling.

It also brought them all back to the task at hand: spying.

“What’re they talking about?” Umi queried, his face smashed up against the glass till his nose was upright. Usagi’s fingers tangled in his dark hair as she peered over him and Shingo curiously. Mamoru, always the stoic, was facing them. There was no hint of the conversation from his end, neither did she expect there to be. 

“We’re trading Usagi for you,” Shingo answered. She backhanded the twerp without a second look, forcing the stifled chuckle from Umi, and spreading mist across the glass. 

“Stop, seriously Shingo. No one’s being traded or sold.” Ikuko shot her children a warning look before returning to the show in the front yard. The spatula in her hand was already touching the couch by Usagi’s leg, so she didn’t bother trying say something about it. Blue eyes rolled heavenward. Seriously, she got these things from her parents.

They watched, amazed, while the two men talked. A handshake passed between them and Shingo let out a loud whoop and jumped from the couch.

“See? Told ya! Now we get to trade out all those creepy bunnies for action figures!” The short figure started in on a weird little jig that included a lot of but wiggling and raspberries pointed at his sister.

“Mom, what is happening? Has the whole world gone crazy? Am I losing my mind?!” Usagi wailed, half tempted to race back outside and mow the two down for information.

“Oi, oi, enough with the hysterics!” Ikuko patted her head softly, quite accustomed to the emotionally-charged explosions by now. “Chiba-san arranged for Umi’s adoption papers. He’s set up a trust fund to help pay for living expenses.”

“He what?” The implications were not nice. As blood drained from her face, and Umi stepped away from Shingo’s antics, she could practically see the writing on the wall. Everything they’d done this evening had been for show. He’d done and said things to make her believe that he loved her, all the while setting up a trap back at home.

“Umi’s practically ours. To keep. We meet with a lawyer on Monday.” Her mother’s warm violet eyes crinkled at the corners, completely oblivious to the real story.

“He’s paying for it? That’s stupid, why would he want to do something like that! It’s not like he can buy me, ya know!” What if she’d said no? Would Umi be a prisoner in that horrible place forever because of her? Was Mamoru even capable of that kind of cruelty when he came from a similar background? The tears were welling up in her eyes, and the blocks falling into place as she watched. This was a trap, and she’d fallen right into it.

“Actually, he did it for Umi.” A hand smoothed through one tail of hair, dribbling the strands across her shoulder. Her mother was looking at her intently, the velvety eyes spreading outward to take in the sight. Usagi felt another tremble of fear beginning in her gut at the sight. She’d completely forgotten about wearing the dress. “He came by this afternoon to see what we needed for the adoption. Apparently, he’s been a mentor of sorts down at the orphanage, and it got him thinking that Umi should be part of a real family.”

“Baka-san isn’t so bad,” the child offered finally in his quiet, solemn voice. He was crossing his arms, pleased with himself for some unknown reason. The words were still coming together in her head though, because maybe Mamoru really wasn’t that cruel. Maybe he’d only wanted to help? But how would he even know where Umi would want to be? How would he know that this quiet, reserved little boy belonged to them?

And he did. He fit their family like a lost puzzle piece, his quiet sarcasm older than him by years would have the group in stitches of laughter. He filled that space in their home and in their family that felt like it had always been there, waiting for him. Waiting for the quiet one to even out the madness. 

And Mamoru…

“So even if…if I don’t date him, we still get to keep Umi?” she whispered quietly, hardly believing what was happening to them. Their family complete, and her dark prince by her side; was it possible for things to work out so beautifully? After everything she’d done as a Senshi to protect the people of this planet, was this finally the reward?  
Her heart was aching, spreading so wide that it hurt. 

“I’m not a pet!” The petulant boy kicked at her shin hard enough to elicit a yelp and a one-legged dance from the blond.

“The adoption will be final. He’ll be a Tsukino.” She grinned, watching her daughter nearly tumble into the carpet. That dress was stunning on her. It was amazing how different the girl seemed all of the sudden; so grown up and beautiful. When had that happened? With a sigh only a mother could produce, she shrugged and turned toward the kitchen again “Honestly, Usagi, we hardly even talked about you.”

Kenji ghosted through the door, all of the fire burned out after the encounter. The blond tornado he called a daughter fled past him, out into the night. Every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to grab her like he did when she was little, pull her back into the safety of their home and keep her under lock and key. A terrible sigh bled from him as he watched her go. She was grown up now, he’d have to face it.

The man turned away before he could see the exchange. It was strange to think just yesterday everything had been normal. Usa had wandered off to be with friends, Shingo had played videogames till noon. Who would have thought that tonight, everything he’d known would be ripped from him by some high-society pretty boy? Ikuko stood at the door of the kitchen, her arms folded; the ever-present spatula poking out beneath her elbow.

“Iku-hime, I think we’ve been outvoted.” His wife came forward, a look of quiet understanding gracing her soft features. Her arms wrapped around him gently, knowing him, and how much he would need comfort. To see his little girl all grown up, meeting a nice young man…it had to be hard for him. The two held each other close, right there in the doorway.

He didn’t even say anything about the greasy spatula on the piano.  
.  
.  
.

“Mamo-chan!” Her sweet voice called through the night, and he turned just fast enough to catch the bundle hurtling toward him. The force slammed into his front, so familiar from ages ago when they would collide at the infamous corner. He was about to comment on it, in fact, but found she had other plans.

The heady sensation of her mouth crashing against his slipped the ground from his toes and sent every thought packing. It was a burning, soft heaven made of flesh and tongue and desire. With all the desperation of a drowning man in his final moments, it was the first breath of gushing water than sunk him deep into the ocean to be lost forever. Her arms tucked around his neck, pulling his floating body off balance. The fleeting thought of her parents was the only self-preserving moment as his hands filled with soft cotton and long, flowing hair.

He tried, gods he tried, to keep it PG. Not for himself; all he wanted was to wrap the midnight shadows around them and disappear into the velvet blackness like a blood-lusting vampire. Her father had just barely finished begging some decency from him and he wanted so much to fulfill that promise and prove himself worthy of her. The sweet, spicy bundle in his arms was fighting, bickering with his tongue and hair and body. What was a mere mortal to do when a Titan Goddess threw herself into his arms and all but begged to be ravished?

Their mouths tangled and fought. Gods, her tongue was tearing him apart from the inside out with each burning pass! The touch of her hot lips all but sizzled and crackled with the pent energy that had been building all this time. The force of power built beneath the pressure of his hands, a perfect harmony of blaring, wild, passionate music searing till even he felt the transition.

There was no soul bond, no fate, no past or future–just the certain, almost frightening knowledge that even had these things never existed to begin with, he would still love her. It was the transcendence of time, space, and reality. It was the meeting of two age-old-souls incapable of true separation. It was beautiful, agonizing, terrible love that scorched down to the root of being and lodged its fiery hearth directly over the breath of life, and fed. The steady, burning inferno honed itself to a blowtorch, and whispered that power through every particle of his being.

With this, it spoke, we build our own world.

“Thank you,” she whispered simply the moment they broke apart. Her eyes were damp again, and tears slid down her soft face as she spoke. He felt their startling wetness on one hand caught between his fingers and her hair. The shimmering silver-blue eyes glanced toward the house, and he followed in kind. The festering eight-year-old was promising slow death with every passing moment, his small arms tucked under themselves and a foot tapping heavily on the ground. Mamoru chuckled.

“I thought he’d make a killer brother-in-law.” He was still laughing at the pun when her soft mouth pressed against his in sweet sincerity. She was blushing darkly in the phosphorescent street lights, and the vivid paint spread across her neck and shoulders. The supple contrast of smooth skin and soft cotton smoldered both his eyes and chest as she struggled for words. He beat her to it. “I love you.”

The words came so naturally it almost surprised him. He’d told her before, but for some reason this time felt…balanced. It wasn’t just right because he wanted her, or because he admired her, or even because she had never looked so beautiful. It was because it was true.

The struggle fled from her face with the dawn of a shy, tearful smile. The sweet tears dripped down her face in liquid starlight; and he watched, loving that they were for him. It was almost laughable now looking back over all the stupid things he missed over the past two years. If only he could have been bothered to look at her, see her. She was the light to his darkness, the sudden clarity to an obscure vision. His Persephone.

“I love you too.” Her flushing skin darkened just noticeably. The gentle, soft touch of her fingers in his hair were the only reminders of reality. For the first time ever, she spoke without fear or hesitance or irritation lacing the endearment. A hopeless smile began to spread across his mouth, banishing the loneliness with a firm and unrepentant bitch-slap. And it felt good. “But quit making me cry, you jerk!” Her coy hands swatted at him.

She was pulling away, but the warmth boiling just beneath the surface of his skin didn’t seem as affected by it. It may have been a play of the moonlight, or a strand of her impossible fairy-tale hair caught at the right angle, but a shimmer of light arched between their trailing fingers as they parted. In his mind’s eye, the once golden link grafted into his soul still dulled in brass and decay. However, that same whisper of silver that was the summation of all of him clung to her in a simple, thin spider web. It was small, almost untraceable. Yet the idea caused a wicked, knowing smile to crack the edges of his awareness.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he murmured, wishing he could reach out and pull her back into his arms. She smiled, her feet leading backward toward the house. His eyes traced the almost indefinable line between them with growing recognition.

“Yeah.” She paused, kicking at the ground with her flats and turning her face downward. “And every day after…you know…if you want.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. This new sliver of a link between them was not the golden, shining chord it had been. If anything, the ghostly line was nothing but a shimmering mockery of its divinely-induced counterpart. It was still there, though, and still glittering in the moonlight. He latched onto the idea like Prometheus to his fire, and fled the wrath of the all-knowing gods above.

This time, they’d forge it out of titanium. More than that, they’d do it together.

“Yeah? Alright then.” He watched her back away till she turned to take the first steps upward to the porch. “Can I call you Odango?” he called, his tone only slightly mocking. After all, if this was going to be a long-term thing he couldn’t promise the hated nickname would never pass his lips. Especially, or more specifically, because it was part of who she was.

“Goodnight,” she called, her pigtails swishing just barely toward him as she reached for the door handle. 

“Oh. How about Usako?” he asked with some finality, watching the magic sway of her hips as she stepped over the threshold. The door slid closed again, but not without her shy, knowing smile peeking out toward him, leaden with promise.  
.  
.  
…………

My dearest subscribers;

It is with great sadness that I, Matsumori Yoshi, President, must inform you all that at exactly 4pm yesterday afternoon, our dearest love and purpose for this very article, died.

Chiba Mamoru was in his early 20s, 11 days short of his 22nd birthday to be precise, when the following events occurred at Crown Arcade and Karaoke. My dearest sisters, I watched with my own eyes these horrifying events and wish to press upon you all the severity of the situation that I will give account of presently.

As a second testimony to the things which you will shortly hear, I beg you all to look back on this strange year in our most beloved’s life. He has been anxious and agitated since last summer, has disappeared from his favorite hangouts altogether, and has developed a disturbing talent for vanishing completely on any given holiday of importance. Reports that have continually baffled our Chief of Staff and Editor, Ootori Yumi, have been flooding our offices of strange questions, odd behaviors, and chillingly threatening warning signs that our dear Mamoru-sama, has in fact, been seeing someone.

Those rumors were fanned into all-out gossip 2 months prior to this report, when eye witnesses claimed Chiba Mamoru not only graced a dance with his presence, but actually kidnapped a middle school child who was last seen that night hanging over his shoulder and ignorantly threatening bodily injury. According to our extensive research, this girl has since been identified as Tsukino Usagi; who I’m sure you all remember as the same ridiculous girl that over a year ago was openly fighting with Mamoru-sama in the Crown Arcade on a daily basis. Whatever relation might have incurred through the battles was lost when he publicly renounced her accidental confession of love, and consequently setting us all at ease. The two had not been seen together in all that time.

Since the dance 2 months ago, the duo have been spotted together at nearly every street corner, which would be cause to worry for us all under normal circumstances, but we were happy to report that no romantic tendencies have been verified as the two are usually fighting. It would have been this office’s pleasure to report that dangers of Tsukino-san and Chiba-sama being a couple have been labeled preposterous. However, the events of yesterday have forever changed our opinion.

Furuhata Motoki, junior manager at Crown and best friend of the great C. M., stated that everything had been normal that day. Tsukino-san entered the arcade at exactly 3:48, as always, and sat down at her usual spot at the bar to order food (which she has been known to eat a disturbing amount of). At approximately 3:56, not even ten minutes after her arrival, the arcade was pleased to house a tuxedo-clad Chiba Mamoru, holding roses and followed closely by college music genius, Kaioh Michiru and her well reputed violin.

The roses were quickly handed to Tsukino-san (who had bar-b-que sauce dripping from her chin like an animal) before he knelt and began to sing with the violin accompaniment. The song has since been identified as “Gira Con Me Questa Notte”, an Italian number made popular by Josh Groban, and is not on the known favorites list of our beloved Mamoru-sama. Also noteworthy, the fact that Mamoru-sama was purposefully horrible (for we know that he cannot be imperfect), with the sole end of making Tsukino-san laugh like a donkey.

And so, my dear sisters, it is with the utmost grief that I relay to you, the death of our dear Chiba Mamoru, at exactly 4 pm, when he extracted a blue ring-box from his tuxedo pants. His funeral shall be held this next Saturday, August 3rd, in the Hikawa Shrine under the direction of our own Hino Rei. Let us all come and give our condolences on this most grievous day and wish our precious Chiba-sama a happy birthday as his godlike body is claimed forever by the irritatingly immature and inappropriate Tsukino Usagi, who, in an unrelated side story, was recently labeled hottest girl in Tokyo according to 9/10 of college men on campus.

Our condolences.

Chiba Mamoru fan club,

Matsumori Yoshi, President  
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.  
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AN: Well, it took me exactly 8 years and 4 days to do it, but there you are. SoulBound.

I kind of want to cry right now. :)

First, I want to thank everyone who had a hand in this, Dablackrose, my sister Jessika, slightlyxjaded. You guys seriously rock my face off, I couldn’t ask for better global and grammar editors. It’s been so fun working with you!

So there’s a ton of discussion to be had, which I’m hoping you’ll take a part of. 

First, what did you like? What did you hate? Where can I improve?

Were the characters believable? Was the ending satisfactory? Did you hate every second and wish Mamoru would just die?

I need to know your thoughts, so PLEASE take a few minutes to write me a line or two. Writing original fiction is a super demanding job, and I’d rather fix and edit now rather than get turned down by a publishing house later. 

THAT SAID, I also want to thank my reviewers. You know I’d do anything for you guys ;)

Like what you’ve read? Interested in more? Like my facebook page 

facebook.com/ellourrahlofthousefiction

Or search for Ellourrah Lofthouse fiction

This is the page I’ll be updating in all the years to come, especially for upcoming works and (fingers crossed) publication :D 

Also, I had the extreme pleasure of meeting one of my reviewers on facebook, and we’ve gotten along like a house on fire! So I thought –man, wouldn’t it be cool to meet everyone else!?!?!

Maybe I squee’d like a fangirl…

LOVE YOU GUYS! Stay tuned next week for another chapter of Sleeping Death, just in time for Halloween…

Ellourrah


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